


The Gilded Ace

by lightworms07



Category: Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Book 2: Crooked Kingdom Spoilers, Canon-Typical Gun Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, First Kiss, Fluff and Humor, Gangs, Hallucinogenic drugs, Kidnapping, Magic, Mild Language, Multi, Mystery, Slow Burn, Torture, Violence, blood & injuries, grisha - Freeform, guess which ship that refers to, i want to reiterate that the OCs are absolutely not MCs, minor minor character death, references to canon prostitution (heleen & the menagerie), references to murder, they're merely plot devices
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:16:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 105,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26373325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightworms07/pseuds/lightworms07
Summary: Twenty-one months after the events of Crooked Kingdom, a semblance of normalcy has settled over Ketterdam.Kaz Brekker is the King of the Barrel. The Dregs have become the most powerful gang in the city. Everything is as it should be; order has been restored.Then comes the news that a Merchant Councilman was reported missing. It seems he just... disappeared.Then the threat of a new gang emerges from the shadows.Then a man in the Government District is arrested for a spree of gruesome murders, having reportedly gone mad.And everything falls apart.The crows, having scattered, reunite to solve the growing mystery and save themselves from a strange, powerful source threatening to tear Ketterdam apart.
Relationships: Jesper Fahey/Wylan Van Eck, Kaz Brekker & Inej Ghafa, Kaz Brekker/Inej Ghafa, The Crows & The Crows
Comments: 104
Kudos: 113





	1. Part 1 ~ Ash & Smoke; 1 ~ Brair

**Author's Note:**

> hello! thanking you for clicking on this story that's lived in my brain since March :)  
> a few things before you dive in, if you care to read them:  
> -after a lot of debate I decided to follow the canon continuum and keep Matthias dead. I considered magically reversing that unfortunate incident (I'm still not over it) but he didn't really fit into the plot I created, and his death is extremely relevant to Nina's character development, so sadly this is not a fic for any die-hard Nina/Matthias fans looking for content  
> -on a related note, I never read _King of Scars_. I skimmed a brief summary, but in later parts of this fic I dive into pretty heavy Grisha lore, which I technically know nothing about canon-wise, so be warned of potential discontinuities  
> -finally I believe the violence in this fic is typical to canon, but if at any point someone thinks I should add a "graphic depictions of violence" warning please let me know.  
> with that rant over, I hope you enjoy!!
> 
> characters, lore and world belong, of course, to Leigh Bardugo and I have no claim over them.

Her headstone was unmarked. 

Brair Gradlyn approached the small grave, a sight that never failed to consume him with a dizzying mix of grief and rage. The weathered stone was fading and chipped at the corners. It sat under a dying willow tree, with sparse leaves and thinning branches that sank toward the grassy soil. Brair tried to maintain the tree, as an act of respect for the greatest friend he had ever known, who was laying six feet beneath the very ground he stood on.

His efforts were futile; the tree was slowly dying, weakening its grip on life. Brair visited this gravesite too infrequently, preoccupied with his work, and the plans he had been perfecting for decades. Besides, he had never been adept at nurturing things. He was better skilled at burning, and destruction, and tearing apart his enemies who took everything from him-

Brair sighed heavily. He cleared his throat and adjusted his collar, recentering himself. The suit he wore was itchy, despite the outlandish amount of money he’d spent on it. Earlier in the evening Brair had had a meeting with a merchant who frequently shipped his goods to Kerch, the island a half-day boat ride across the True Sea. 

He was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of footsteps. Brair turned to find his assistant approaching, a young Shu woman named Rai, her long black hair swept across her face from the cool breeze. 

“Boss,” she greeted, coming to a stop at his right side. She stared at the grave impassively. Rai had never made a single comment about it, for which Brair was grateful. He preferred to keep his personal life separate from his business associates as much as he possibly could. Rai undoubtedly knew the story behind it, but she had never brought it up in front of him, nor did she ever try to.

It was a fitting arrangement. Brair just might have to kill Rai if she tried to get too close, and if such an unfortunate incident occurred he would have to search for a new assistant. That would be too great a setback, one he couldn’t afford. And he was lucky to have Rai as an associate; her talents went very nearly unmatched.

“What news do you have for me?” Brair asked her.

“Everything is in place, sir. The ship is prepared for you, whenever you choose to depart.” Rai didn’t look at him as she spoke. Her eyes tracked the dying tree branches spread above them. 

“Everything?” he questioned.

“Everything,” Rai confirmed. Brair remembered how her voice used to tremble in his presence, but slowly bits of her steely personality crept through in the years they had worked together. Now she didn’t fear him at all- or, if she did, then Rai was better at hiding emotions than Brair was at reading them.

Perhaps she should be afraid of him. Though, in all fairness, Rai had no idea what Brair was truly capable of. 

“I leave at sunrise,” said Brair.

“The captain will be ready.” Rai turned to leave him in his solitude, but Brair held out a hand to stop her. “Twenty-three years I’ve waited,” he said. “Every aspect of this plan is perfected. I’ve accounted for every detail, every step of the way that might go awry. Your support has been appreciated, Rai. I’ve never had such a cooperative assistant.”

“We have an agreement.” Rai, for the first in a long time, sounded unsure.

“Yes.” He said nothing more. Rai lingered, but when it was clear he had nothing more to say to her, she departed briskly. Her footsteps faded away. Only when he was alone did Brair allow himself to survey the small headstone at his feet once more.

He wondered if he should mark the headstone with her name. ‘Karlione Rvalnir,’ it would read. He could see the scrawling, elegant engraving in his mind’s eye. But this was more fitting, the plain little stone. Brair had grown comfortable with this grave, and the time he spent with his now long-dead companion.

Brair could still hear Karlione’s voice. Her smile would be trapped in his mind forever.

He did his best to compose himself. Now was the time for revenge, not getting trapped in the shadows of his past. Brair needed to hold her close, but that would never happen again. 

The thought destroyed him.

Brair turned quietly back to Karlione’s headstone. “Avenging you will not bring you back,” he confessed. “But it will lead both our souls to peace.”

He departed from the tree and grave quickly, never looking back, his shoulders squared with purpose as he disappeared into the night.

Just a few more hours, a day at most, and he would be back where his world turned to ruin. Brair was thrilled; he had never been more ready. His army was gathered. The world was his kindling, and now, finally, it could burn.

There would be no survivors.


	2. 2 ~ Kaz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaz runs a scheme, Inej returns to Ketterdam, and something rather strange occurs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No chapter warnings! Just some good old trickery and a little bit of blackmail, in true Kaz fashion.

2 ~ Kaz

Kaz Brekker was King of the Barrel, and it was time for his enemies to stop forgetting it.

Now that he was the boss, for the past several months his work had been surprisingly quiet. Eleven months earlier there was a particularly violent altercation with the Liddies, who had risen to replace the Dime Lions as the most dire opponent of the Dregs, but even that had been smoothed over with relative ease. 

Everything seemed simple, after the Ice Court heist and the disaster with Kuwei Yul-Bo. Kaz had to remind himself near-constantly that he could never, under any circumstances, let his guard slip. It irritated him that he even needed a reminder; he’d practically been raised by the Barrel, and he thought the survival instincts Ketterdam had given him would never fade away. And they hadn’t, not really; but Kaz found his attention waning much too frequently in the past weeks, which made him nervous, which in turn made him angry. 

Yet a new threat was creeping in. Kaz’s spies were sending frequent reports of low-level Razorgulls trying to infiltrate the Crow Club. It was ridiculous. The gang was notorious for its ill-tempered members and unruly new recruits. Kaz personally believed there wasn’t a single ounce of common sense between all of them, but they’d somehow been retaining the illusion they could overpower the Dregs. 

Tonight, he would put a stop to that. 

The weak link would be the Razorgulls lieutenant, a portly man named Lawrence Boothe. Kaz had only seen the man in person once or twice, but his reputation for fine clothes and piss-poor gambling skills was a mile wide. Kaz knew the man favored the Capering Mirage, a gaudy casino south of the Financial District. 

He would be paying Boothe a visit tonight.

Kaz considered himself lucky the Capering Mirage was so far south in the city, even though traveling this far for such a small job would normally irk him. But he was still banned in all the gambling halls lining East Stave, from his earliest days as a thief. Kaz had tried returning to a few of the gambling parlors over the years, just to see if his face was still remembered. A floor boss never failed to throw him out within the first hour.

“I’d recognize those shifty little eyes anywhere,” one of the guards had told him, on a sunny afternoon years ago. “Go home, kid. If I see you back in here, the _stadwatch_ will be waiting.”

Kaz coud be reckless, but he wasn’t dumb, so as he grew up he held himself back from revisiting the old gambling halls. 

The canal boat he was traveling in slowed to a stop. Kaz stood, ready to exit the boat and get on with his evening, but the woman rowing held out an expectant hand for money.

That was another change that had come to the city. The workers controlling the boats were now expecting payment for their services. If Kaz was in the right mood he would indulge, but tonight he had places to be and couldn’t be bothered. He stared the worker down until she shrank back, begrudgingly picking up her oar. Kaz stepped out of the small boat, ascending the stone steps that led him to the street.

The Capering Mirage was easy to find; its front doors were open wide, the warm light from inside spilling out onto the street, welcoming passerbys in for a chance to earn big. The gambling hall’s agenda was furthered by the group of hecklers standing on the corner, urging new patrons inside, and shaming any pedestrians that tried to pass by the casino without stepping in.

Kaz slid in through the front entrance, narrowly avoiding a drunk woman stumbling out onto the street. Normally, he wouldn’t particularly care about bumping shoulders with another person. But tonight he’d forgone wearing his gloves, for the sake of staying anonymous until the right moment, and the thought of coming into close contact with a stranger made him feel pathetically ill. 

There was a long counter in the front room, roughly ten feet from the front doors. There the staff searched incoming customers, checking for weapons, which the Capering Mirage strictly forbade. Kaz vaguely remembered hearing the news of a drunken brawl that ended with several innocents killed by stray bullets in this very room, but all the details evaded him.

When Kaz stepped up to the counter he unbuttoned his gray wool overcoat, showing the bruiser the absence of any firearm holstered at his side.

Of course, the security check wouldn’t account for the knife up Kaz’s sleeve. Or the small blade in his shoe. Or the one tucked in the inner pocket of his coat, the opening invisible unless one knew to look for it.

The bruiser nodded, waving him through. Kaz scanned the room quickly, locating Lawrence Boothe with ease. Nearly everyone in the gambling parlor was dressed in the gaudy, ridiculous clothing Ketterdam loved so much, Boothe included, but he was still easy to pick out of the crowd. He stood by a table wedged in the corner, watching a game unfold. His shiny coat was embellished with whorls of silver thread across the shoulders.

Kaz would wait to join Boothe when the man chose a table. For now he made his way around the room, indulging in a stray game or two, always keeping Boothe in his line of sight.

Eventually Boothe chose his table, just two over from where Kaz was currently sitting. He waited until the lieutenant was losing comfortably to sweep his betting chips in a velvet bag, making his way over to the table.

“We’re playing Fisherman’s Ale,” the dealer told Kaz as he sat. “Max out at twenty-one, but no higher. Aces play low until the starting bet doubles, and spades count for half value. You in?”

Kaz inclined his head, and was promptly handed a set of six cards. Studying them, Kaz took four chips out of his bag, setting his starting bet high. Boothe whistled. His eyes widened when Kaz dumped out the rest of his chips, his bag having been nearly full.

Good. Boothe needed to know he didn’t have the upper hand here. Then Kaz would start gradually wearing him down.

The hands they played racked up- three, then ten, then twenty. Boothe still had yet to win. Kaz could see how eager he was, thinking every hand played would be his lucky break.

Boothe would be waiting a long time.

Kaz tapped the table with his fingers. The dealer handed him another card- an ace to match his king, giving him a perfect set. 

Boothe reared back as if he’d been struck, his mouth gaping open like a dead fish. Kaz fought to restrain his smile; he’d missed this, the way he controlled the deck of cards, even as he sat as a player instead of a dealer. Boothe had been steadily losing to him for the better part of an hour, and the man was enough of a prideful fool that he still stuck around. The simplicity of it almost made duping Boothe a bore, but Kaz was enjoying himself, the monotony outweighed by his love for sleight of hand and cards. 

Greed was easy to nourish. Kaz had ensnared Booths without saying a word; self-glorification and the promise of good _kruge_ did the rest. “Ghezen watches over me tonight,” said Kaz, his first words of the evening.

Boothe sputtered. “There are no gods here.”

“At least not watching in your favor,” the third man at their table guffawed, eying Kaz’s small mountain of betting chips. Boothe had almost run out- he would either have to cough up more money to keep his chips, or forfeit everything he’d staked on play tonight.

He wouldn’t win. Kaz made sure of that as he slowly dismantled Boothe’s confidence over a few skilled hands. Their night wore on, measured by the floor boss passing their table every quarter-chime; Boothe gradually became more sullen and meek; he hesitated considerably before deciding his plays, which further irritated the dealer. 

It was a cycle of frustration that fed Kaz’s satisfaction. The other patrons seated at their table came and went, driven to fury by Kaz’s winnings. He let himself lose only frequently enough that no one became suspicious of foul play, but that wasn’t enough for the men dumb and hopeful enough to turn a profit from this gambling floor. 

In Ketterdam, everyone was a cheat, or a liar, or a thief. The only thing that separated one man from the rest was how fast he picked up on it.

Kaz glanced down at his pocket watch; it was half past eleven bells, nearing midnight, and Kaz could think of a hundred more constructive ways to spend the night than conning Boothe out of all his money. After all, this game was only the pre-show. The real performance would come when Boothe snapped out of his stupor enough to realize who exactly he was playing with.

That seemed unlikely to happen. Boothe was studying the deck and his own hand intensely, all his focus narrowed to the cards. Kaz was inclined to believe the dealer was about to draw a gun on the lieutenant out of sheer exasperation alone. 

This could escalate quickly, and Kaz wasn’t in the mood for a brawl. He was a patient man, but this was ridiculous, and even he didn’t care to wait.

“You know,” Kaz spoke up, studying Boothe carefully, waiting for his moment of realization. “I thought lieutenants were supposed to be organized. Vigilant. Aware.”

“You’re a military man?” the dealer asked incredulously. Kaz watched him take in Boothe’s ridiculous sky-blue coat and the stomach putting considerable strain on its tarnished silver buttons.

Boothe considered Kaz, ignoring the dealer’s comment. He knew exactly what Kaz meant- and that neither of them were on the right side of the law. Good. Now it was only a matter of Boothe putting a name to Kaz’s face.

Kaz watched as Boothe’s expression transformed, eyes widening with fear. He scrambled for the gun in his coat pocket, only to find it was unfortunately absent; Kaz had snuck the weapon into the pocket of his own coat just before he first sat down at this table.

With the right target, weapons were easier to pickpocket than wallets.

Boothe knew about the strict policy the Capering Mirage had entailing weapons on the gambling floor, just as well as everyone else. Most of the patrons here abided by those rules, and had their guns and such secured in a locker by the front door. But Boothe was one of those criminals who thought he was above the law. That had been easy to exploit; and now here he was, cornered by Dirtyhands, a nightmare that had stepped into the light. 

“Hey!” Boothe shouted. The room quieted at the commotion. Kaz watched the floor boss gesture to the nearest bouncer, who was at their table in an instant, clearly eager for the chance to throw someone out. “That’s Kaz Brekker! He’s a thief! He’s a rotten criminal, the meanest boss in the Barrel!” 

Stepping into his act, Kaz threw his hands up. “I don’t understand, sir!” he cried. “This man is surely mad. I’ve never heard the name Kaz Brekker.”

“He’s lying!” Boothe protested. “Brekker’s the most wanted man in this city. You’re letting him deceive you!”

The bouncer frowned, glancing between Kaz and Boothe, trying to decide whom he should trust. Kaz swayed the odds in his favor by pulling a false set of papers from his inner jacket pocket, passing them to the bouncer. “My name is Edmunde Potter, sir,” Kaz told the man. “I’m meeting a friend here tomorrow. I came from the Wandering Isle. You can see my travel papers here.” 

The bouncer squinted at the text, his frown deepening. Kaz had gambled right; most of the law enforcement stationed in Ketterdam, from the _stadwatch_ to low-level bruisers, were illiterate. This bouncer clearly had no idea what Kaz’s travel papers actually said. 

“These look right to me,” he mumbled, passing the papers back to Kaz quickly, who tucked them back in his coat with a feeling of satisfaction. Everything had fallen perfectly into place, just as Kaz had anticipated. 

The bouncer gripped Boothe’s upper arm. “Get off me!” the lieutenant growled. To no avail; he was abruptly pulled from his seat and marched back to the entrance, his coat rumpled and forehead glimmering with sweat. 

Kaz waited until Boothe was out of sight to stand up from the table. His leg twinged in protest after having been still for so long. The dealer watched his pile of betting chips greedily. “Leaving so soon?” he asked. 

“I’m feeling unwell after that spectacle,” Kaz told the man. “I’ve been playing with a street rat all night. Perhaps Ketterdam isn’t the place for me.”

The dealer said nothing. He was reaching for his chips before Kaz had fully left the table.

Kaz wove through the players seated across the gambling floor, dodging bosses and drunks and waitstaff. When a woman behind the counter began asking if he had any belongings to collect from the lockers, he cut her off with a terse “no” and made his way onto the street. It was almost entirely deserted, given the late hour. The cold winter air bit at his neck and face, so Kaz pulled his gray coat tighter around himself, crossing the street as soon as he reached a corner.

In a narrow alley between two shops, he could see a pair of silhouettes against the brick, the only people in sight. One of them held a gun. Kaz walked more quickly, pulling out the oyster knife in his sleeve when he reached the two men. 

Kaz spun the knife between his fingers, letting it flash in the light shining down from the nearest streetlamp. “Hello, Boothe,” he said.

The man in question was pressed up against the wall by Muzzen, who had the barrel of his gun digging into the spot underneath Boothe’s chin. “Lay off, Muzzen,” Kaz ordered. “He needs to be able to breathe to speak.”

“You’re a filthy liar, Brekker,” Boothe growled at him.

Kaz signaled to Muzzen, who stepped aside with a disgruntled look, allowing Kaz to take his place. Muzzen also tossed him his cane, which had been resting against the wall in the shadows. Kaz hadn’t brought it into the club, just to make sure he was unrecognizable to everyone except Boothe.

In the few seconds it took for Muzzen to move out of the way Boothe tried to flee, but Kaz’s knife kept him in place. “Careful, Boothe,” he taunted. “One wrong move, and this street will be bathed in your blood.”

“I’ll let you slash my throat before I give up anything about the Razorgulls,” Boothe growled. The threat would be more intimidating if sweat wasn’t dripping down his face, staining his collar.

“No, you wouldn’t,” said Kaz. “You enjoy gambling too much. Besides, you don’t have a shred of loyalty toward your own gang. The only reason you’re the lieutenant is because Mercer's favorite was killed by one of your own gang’s newest recruits.” Mercer was the leader of the Razorgulls, a graying man with dry wit and a sharp mind. Kaz would almost admire him if they weren’t enemies.

Boothe sputtered. “How did you-”

“I know everything about the pathetic excuse of a gang you call the Razorgulls.” It was nearly the truth. Roeder and the newest, younger Spider, Erry, kept him well-informed; though they would never live up to the legend Inej had created. 

Inej was a sailor, now, who’d been traveling across the True Sea for many months. She was a hunter. She was a hole in his heart, one he needed to forget.

“The Razorgulls have the worst security out of all the gangs in this city,” Kaz continued, sorting his thoughts, and shoving the ones that made his head cloudy aside. “I’d feel safer sleeping in Hellgate if I were part of your ranks.”

“The hell do you know? Brekker, you’re nothing but a little rat. Let me go this instant, and maybe I can talk Mercer down from starting a war with the Dregs.”

“You’re siphoning funds from the Razorgulls to finance your gambling habit, Boothe. Do you really think you’re in a position to bargain right now?”

Boothe bared his teeth. “Boss isn’t gonna find out about that. And he won’t like it when he learns you hurt me.”

Kaz, with an eyebrow raised, said “Why, there’s not a single scratch on you. If Mercer asks where you went this evening, your disloyalty will come to light. After that, you’ll be lucky to still have your head. I know I’d cut off at least a hand for the trouble.”

Boothe’s face paled. “Why did you follow me here? What the hell do you want?”

“Mercer’s been sending spies to the Crow Club,” Kaz told him. “Don’t try to argue. You Razorgulls stick out like sore thumbs. I know you’re planning to encroach on the southern border of Dregs territory. Tell Mercer to stand down.”

“Or what?” Boothe asked, more arrogant now. Somehow he’d gotten a pathetic bit of his confidence back. 

“We’ll retaliate. I’ll start by taking over your docks at Fourth Harbor. Yes, I know about that scheme as well. I control Fifth Harbor, so you took whatever scraps you could find elsewhere. Do you know what that is, Boothe? It’s pathetic.”

“Fine,” Boothe acquiesced. “We’ll stand down. Mercer will stop sending spies to your club.”

“That’s not good enough. You know, Boothe, the Government District doesn’t intimidate me.”

Boothe swallowed. “What do you mean?” he asked, suddenly more nervous than before.

Kaz pressed his knife deeper into Boothe’s throat. “I think you know exactly what I mean. You didn’t care at all when I threatened Fourth Harbor, because you’re shipping silk and other expensive goods from Ravka through Second Harbor.”

“That’s not true!” Boothe sputtered.

“Mercer thought he was one step ahead of me. That harbor is his greatest secret, no? He’ll probably kill you, now that I know.”

“You’re not supposed to know about that!” Boothe was shouting now, all caution abandoned, having been lost to his desperation.

“I know this city better than you know yourself. There’s nothing you can hide from me.” Kaz watched his face as he said “Those shipments are the single thread keeping the Razorgulls from unraveling. The particular ship Mercer favors is the _Pathflight_ , yes? Listen closely, Boothe. That ship is now armed with explosives. My demo expert is prepared to detonate them as we speak.”

“You can’t!” Boothe wailed. “Please! Without that ship we have nothing left!” His face hardened after he said it; clearly he hadn’t meant to let that slip. 

“Then you’ll report back to Mercer and tell him to back away from the Dregs. Consider this your warning, Boothe. If you ever think about stealing my territory again, that ship of yours will be the first to go, then I’ll tear the Razorgulls apart and enjoy every second of it.”

“Alright,” Boothe agreed, nodding frantically. “Please let me go.”

Kaz stepped back, tucking the knife back in his sleeve. Boothe bolted immediately, and Kaz held his cane out to trip the man, just to keep his ego in check. He stumbled, disappearing around the corner, the sound of his harried footsteps fading fast.

Kaz left the alley as well, heading in the opposite direction of the lieutenant. There was a scuffling sound overhead, and Kaz looked up to see a shadow disappearing across a rooftop.

Erry. Kaz had hired him just over a month ago, even though the boy was barely thirteen. Roeder was a decent enough Spider, but he didn’t cover enough ground after Inej was gone, so now he was in charge of training Erry.

If Kaz could hear the boy and pick him out from the shadows, clearly neither of them were doing a half-decent job.

“I would’ve blown up the _Pathflight_ if I were you,” Muzzen piped up. “There’s still time. Erry can give the signal, and we’ll teach the ‘Gulls a lesson.”

Kaz had practically forgotten he was there. “It’s a good thing for the Dregs that you’re not me,” Kaz told him, glaring. “And it would be a waste of resources. We’re raiding that ship three weeks from today. I have contacts in Ravka; we can turn a profit from what the _Pathflight_ brings in, and get a bigger cut than Mercer.”

“Son of a bitch,” Muzzen whistled. 

“Go back to the slat,” Kaz ordered. “I have business to take care of.”

“Sure, boss.” At the next corner Kaz reached, Muzzen was gone.

Kaz didn’t relax, that was the first rule of the Barrel streets, but now that he was alone he let himself breathe. He stopped in the shadow of a building on a street corner. His leather gloves were stashed in the front pocket of his trousers, and Kaz pulled them on gratefully. He’d waited until he was out of Muzzen’s company, not wanting to draw attention to his weakness.

Kaz had already heard the whispers on the streets. Over the years he tried to go without the gloves as much as he could stand, for- for Inej, mostly, but also himself.

And people talked. The gloves had been a part of the nightmare Kaz created. There were wild speculations from other gang members, some theories more inane than the reasons concocted for his gloves in the first place. Jesper found it amusing to recount some of his favorite ideas, especially after he’d had too much to drink. But he always restrained himself when Kaz shut the conversation down- or, if he was too far from sobriety, Wylan would keep him in check.

Even Jesper didn’t dare ask why Kaz really wore the gloves..

Kaz didn’t care either way. His reputation had never been clean; what the other gangs, or even the Dregs, whispered about him couldn’t matter less. He was just grateful that no one knew the real reason behind the gloves, and no one ever would. 

Kaz gripped his cane and resumed walking. He was confident Boothe would follow through, but he still needed to pay a visit to the docks at Second Harbor, just to make sure the Razorgulls were operating correctly. The harbor was far from the Capering Mirage; Kaz needed to stop at the Slat first as well, and he’d be lucky to reach the docks by sunrise. 

The hour was late, so the canal boat Kaz traveled in was the only one in the near-deserted waterway. He kept himself aware, but he let his thoughts drift to pass the time. He traveled north on East Stave, watching the stars and the city around him, until he signaled for the rower to stop near the Slat.

If he had the time, Kaz would check in on the Crow Club to make sure the closing went smoothly. But it was a waste of time and effort, because the Dregs shouldn’t need a babysitter, and the Razorgulls were his current priority.

When Kaz reached the Slat he stepped through the front door briskly, heading straight for Haskell’s old office, which Kaz had repurposed years ago as his own. He preferred his rooms in the attic, but the ground-floor office and its attached bedroom were admittedly much more practical, even if it made it easier for the Dregs to bother Kaz. 

Now the attic was used for storage. Kaz left old files, folders and financial books there to collect dust, accessing them rarely. Occasionally the room would house a new member of the Dregs, but over the past months that had been rare.

Kaz started down the hall, but he was distracted by movement in the corner of his eye. He turned to glance at the top landing, up three flights of stairs, and saw a distinct shadow he’d recognize anywhere.

Inej.

Kaz tried to ignore the way his heart thumped. He hadn’t seen Inej in nearly six months. She’d docked in Ketterdam one morning to gather supplies, and he’d met her at the berth despite himself, infuriatingly eager to see her again, to have her near. 

“I’m only staying for the morning,” she had told him. “I’m returning to Ravka to visit my parents. Don’t expect me, or any letters, for quite some time.”

“How long?” Kaz dared to ask. Pathetic, he’d told himself.

Inej tilted her head. “Six months, perhaps.”

Kaz gave her a tight nod, teeth clenched to hold back everyone he wanted to say. He left her with _The Wraith_ soon after, and they hadn’t been in contact since.

Now Kaz looked away, heading back toward his office. He would let Inej come to him. Clearly he didn’t stay in the attic anymore, even though Inej still came through that window, and she would find him soon enough with whatever news or intel he could benefit from knowing. 

Once in his office, Kaz reached for the drawer that held his files on members of the other gangs. He could have memorized all the information he’d gathered, but most of it was times and shift rotations and certain whereabouts or dates, which was all rather trivial in the grand scheme of things. The intel Kaz needed on-hand at all times, such as the means to blackmail his various enemies, was already catalogued in his mind.

The file drawer was secured with a complex lock Kaz had specially designed. It was built from three intertwining pieces, and could only be unlocked by the specific tri-pronged key Kaz owned. If each component was unlocked in the wrong order, the lock would close. 

The design was as secure as Kaz could make it; it wouldn’t be terribly catastrophic if someone managed to access the files, but Kaz was a businessman above all else, and the most valuable transactions occurred when he was the only one who could force the deal with a few thinly-veiled threats. 

Kaz pulled his leather-bound folder from the false bottom of the now-unlocked drawer, flipping through it as he stashed the key back in his sleeve. He read for a few moments, leaning against his desk, until the office door creaked open and Inej stepped in.

A brief glance was all Kaz could spare her, just to keep himself sane. Inej wore the clothing of a typical sailor, a loose-collared shirt untucked over pants that tapered off halfway down her shins. She seemed to be uninjured; if she was hurt in any way, she hid it well. 

Kaz refused to meet her gaze. “Welcome back, Wraith,” was his greeting. Then he went back to his file.

Inej huffed. “Technically you don’t have a reason to call me that anymore.”

Kaz found it in himself to look her in the eye. He raised a brow. “Perhaps I was feeling sentimental.”

“Sentimental,” Inej echoed, laughing. “Kaz Brekker, a man of tradition.”

He shrugged. “A creature of habit, perhaps.”

Inej laughed again, the sound bright and clear. It made his head spin. “What are you working on?” she asked. 

“The Razorgulls have been getting too close. I struck a deal with Mercer’s lieutenant, and now I’m following through at Second Harbor.” He took a gamble. “You could come, if you’d like.”

“I would,” Inej said with a grimace. She sounded genuinely apologetic. “But I’m admittedly out of practice. And my ship is only docked for the night to restock supplies.”

Kaz nodded, embracing the rejection head-on, then forcing it to the back of his mind. He left himself no room for disappointment. “Understood.” He tucked the files away, locking the drawer despite Inej’s presence. She’d held onto his secrets for years. One more about a simple lock could do no harm.

Inej stood with a certain grace, feet planted as she studied him quietly. “Is there something else?” Kaz asked. 

She tilted her head. “Does there have to be something else?”

“I assumed you had some sort of information for me,” Kaz frowned. Why else would she return to Ketterdam?

“Information. Right.” Something flashed across Inej’s face, but she tilted her chin up and it was gone. “My contact in Ravka was helpful?”

“Yes,” said Kaz. “She helped me con the Razorgulls out of some decent _kruge_. The ship carrying their finest goods will soon belong to the Dregs.”

“I’m glad.” Inej made no move to leave, but still she said nothing, pinning him with her thoughtful gaze.

If she wasn’t willing to spit it out, Kaz wouldn’t force out of her whatever she wasn’t saying. He stood, brushing off his waistcoat and straightening his tie, collecting his cane from where it was propped against the desk. “I have places to be,” he said mildly.

Inej stepped away from the door, seemingly still conflicted. “Of course.”

Kaz glanced at her once more, then grabbed his hat from the hook on the wall and left his office.

~--~

Everything at the dock on Second Harbor went according to plan.

Kaz watched the workers from the shadows, sparing one last look before he returned to the Slat. Boothe was there, dressed down to remain inconspicuous, frantically shouting orders at Razorgulls dashing back and forth. Boothe was running damage control, Kaz thought with a smile, and doing a poor job of it. 

There were few greater pleasures than watching his enemies fall apart. 

As Kaz turned to walk away, something strange caught his eye for the second time that night. He wondered for a brief moment if the figure standing across the street was Inej, but when he looked closer Kaz could see that it was a man. 

He stood utterly still, encased in shadow, near-invisible unless one looked closely. The man stared vacantly at the activity on the docks. But what intrigued Kaz was the tattoo on the man’s neck: he was too far away to see the details, but it looked to be a bird of some sort, inked with curls of red and vibrant orange. It sat above the man’s collarbone, wrapping around the side of his neck.

Kaz had never seen anything like it.

He was unnerved by the thought. But Roeder and Erry had certainly never reported anything like this to him; Kaz would have remembered such strange details. He wondered if it was the mark of a new gang, but the placement and coloring of the tattoo were unconventional.

Kaz continued speculating as the man abruptly turned and headed down the street in the other direction. He followed without a second thought, tailing the man for blocks, holding up his cane just enough to keep it from clattering against the cobblestones.

The man quietly disappeared around a corner, and Kaz waited a moment to continue, just to ensure he wasn’t discovered. 

When he turned the corner, the man was gone. 

Kaz frowned in confusion, chancing a quick glance around. It was as if the man he’d been following simply vanished into thin air. It made Kaz think of _parem_ , and how he’d seen a man walk through walls.

It wasn’t the same, Kaz berated himself. He would know if _jurda parem_ returned to Ketterdam. This was something else entirely.

The thought was more disconcerting than Kaz would care to admit.

He let the strange incident occupy his thoughts as Kaz returned to the Slat. In the main room Anika was waiting, talking quietly to another member of the Dregs as she scribbled notes down on a stack of papers.

“Boss,” she greeted when he stepped into the light. “Word on the Razorgulls?”

“It’s settled,” Kaz told her. “You’ll lead the team to raid the _Pathflight_. Three weeks. Whatever weapons you’re planning to bring, double it. I can’t be sure what Mercer might try.”

“Agreed,” Anika nodded. With nothing else to be said, she returned to her work.

When Kaz had replaced Per Haskell as the leader of the Dregs, he’d needed a lieutenant to fill his old position. Anika was the obvious choice, with her steady temperament and brisk problem-solving skills. They’d risen through the ranks together, so Kaz trusted her more than most. She had yet to betray his confidence, and though Kaz was still slightly wary by nature, he believed she would never become disloyal to him.

Kaz considered telling her about the strange man he’d encountered, but refrained from doing so. If needed, he would notify her of his suspicions about a new gang-- but for now it seemed ludicrous, so he kept it to himself.

Something felt wrong. Kaz kept looking over his shoulder as he returned to his room, as if he were being watched, though Inej’s presence was long gone from the Slat.

Kaz tried to put it out of his mind, failing rather miserably.

His sleep was fitful all throughout the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kaz having internal panic/angst about Inej is like my favorite thing. The pining is very real, and this is just chapter two. When I tagged slow burn, I meant it. (They would probably get together much faster if they communicated, but we all know that's not the way they work in canon.)
> 
> Two chapters this week, since Brair's was so short. But Kaz's chapter wound up being 5.5K, and if future chapters are also that long, the norm will be one chapter a week (and this fic will be updated every Wednesday).
> 
> Hope you enjoyed so far!! if you liked it, let me know!!


	3. 3 ~ Jesper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesper and Wylan are still very much in love. At the Slat, the evidence of a new threat becomes more apparent. Kaz learns something interesting about his new foes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is this unedited? yes. is it posted a day later than I planned based on my update schedule? also yes. (school, as it turns out, is much more mentally draining than I expected.
> 
> I have no idea where the first part of this chapter came from, and (brief disclaimer) it feels awkward but at this point I'm leaving it
> 
> Now that that's settled, I hope you enjoy regardless! the plot picks up in the next chapter, I promise (but I still like this one because of some of the dialogue)

The two things Jesper missed the most about Ketterdam were the company and the chaos.

For nearly two years now, Jesper had been living with Wylan and an impressive amount of wait staff in the Van Eck estate. It slowly grew into more of a home with each month he and Wylan stayed there. At first Wylan had been tentative, hovering nervously in every room like he was afraid touching something would make it vanish for good. Now he’d grown out of that, as he stripped the property of every last reminder of Jan Van Eck and kept only the best memories from his childhood. 

He supposed the presence of Marya Hendriks in the home helped with that too.

Jesper had come to love Wylan’s mother almost as much as his own. Marya was still distant at times, but Wlan spent hours with her nearly every day, indulging her in simple conversation and telling stories of the Dregs’ adventures. Slowly but surely, she came back to herself, and her adoration for Wylan became even more apparent than it initially was.

Marya delved into the arts more, these days. One morning Jesper had found her at the piano with Wylan as they played in tandem, and he was dumbstruck by the realization that he truly had the ideal life.

But there was still a tiny nagging thought that hovered in the back of Jesper’s mind, forcing him to remember the life he used to have. Long days exploring Ketterdam and late nights at the Slat; gambling and the thrill of it; chasing other gang members through the streets with Kaz or the other Dregs.

“Do you miss living in the Slat?” Jesper asked Wylan once. “And the life we led?”

“After the Ice Court and the disaster that followed?” Wylan responded. “No, not really. That was enough excitement for multiple lifetimes.” Then he paused and said, “Do you miss it?”

“No,” Jesper responded quickly, too quickly perhaps, by the way Wylan had narrowed his eyes. “No, not really. Just thinking.”

He and Wylan were still part of the Dregs, of course. Jesper could never imagine anything else; he was too loyal to Kaz. But the two of them had faded to the background, though Jesper still visited the Crow Club periodically. And Wylan had a small workshop on the far edge of their property to continue practicing demo, which had resulted in only a handful of unfortunate accidents that may have put them on a _stadwatch_ warning list. He exchanged letters with Kaz sometimes, written by Jesper, about a few of his projects that might be useful to the Dregs.

On paper, everything was going perfectly for Jesper. His small buy-in on the Kerch market months ago paid off, and now he and Wylan were earning more _kruge_ by the day. He was living in a comfortable home with the love of his life, and they had fewer responsibilities than ever before. 

So why was there an itch in Jesper’s fingers to just uproot his life and change everything entirely?

He sighed, shifting on the window seat he was sprawled across, trying to push his creeping discontent away. Morning sunlight streamed through the gap in the curtains, lighting up the small sitting room. Jesper could see frost blanketing the front lawn, and gray snow fell softly from the dreary sky. It made Jesper glad he was safely inside, with the comfortable cushion beneath him and the fireplace crackling against the far wall.

Jesper felt nearly perfect. There was only one thing missing.

As if Wylan had read his mind, he slipped through the door, hands in his pockets and curls deliciously skewed from sleep. “The bed was cold,” he complained, approaching the window seat.

Jesper laughed, shifting again so that Wylan had space to curl up beside him. “I think you’re just cold all the time.”

“Or maybe you’re ridiculously hot,” Wylan argued, tucking his head under Jesper’s chin.

He smirked. “I’m more used to hearing ‘beautiful’ and ‘gorgeous,’ but I’ll take that one too.”

Wylan nudged him, shaking his head. Jesper nudged him back. “You know that’s not what I meant,” Wylan protested, but he couldn’t hide the smile in his voice and Jesper could feel him shaking with barely-suppressed laughter. 

“Yeah, I know.”

They basked in silence for a moment. “What are we doing today?” Jesper asked.

“I have something to show Kaz,” said Wylan. “It’s some plans for a new type of explosive. I was thinking we could drop by the Slat?”

“Of course we can.” It had been a few weeks since the two of them visited the Dregs, who had been slowly multiplying since Kaz became the boss. Soon Kaz would have to buy a second property to house all the members. 

“Alright. Will we leave soon?” Wylan asked.

Jesper wrapped his arms around him. “In a few minutes. I just want to enjoy this for now.”

Wylan craned his neck to smile up at him. “I’d like that too.”

~--~

“I certainly liked that window seat a lot more than this weather,” Wylan grumbled. They’d forced themselves out of the sitting room after an hour of lazing about. They were out in the city, bundled in thick wool coats for protection against the now-heavy snowfall. The canal had almost entirely frozen over, so the boats were closed temporarily, meaning they had to navigate the crowded street. Jesper nearly walked into a woman pushing past them, and Wylan yanked him aside to avoid a collision that would have undoubtedly ended poorly.

“Thanks,” Jesper said, righting himself. Wylan’s hat had been knocked askew, so Jesper reached over to pull it past down his ears. 

By the time they reached the Slat Jesper felt like his bones were shaking from the cold, and Wylan’s cheeks were redder than he’d ever seen. When they rushed through the front door of the Slat Wylan made a beeline for the small heating unit in the corner of the main room. Jesper took a moment to survey the Dregs in front of him. 

There was a card game going on in the far corner, with seven players Jesper vaguely recognized but couldn’t put names to. Specht was drinking alone on one of the small lumpy sofas near the heater, and behind him Dirix and Anika poured over a map spread across the low table.

“No, that won’t work,” Dirix was saying. “The Liddies use that street for their big deals. They’ll skin us ‘live if we pass through this way.”

“Not if we bring extra ammo,” Anika suggested. Her cropped yellow hair swept against her cheek as she leaned forward, and she pushed it back impatiently. “Or, we send Muzzen through before we go. He could knock out at least half before they figure out what’s coming.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t put that much faith in Muzzen,” Jesper said, pulling up a chair to sit with them. 

They looked up, startled out of their conversation. “Hey, Jesper!” Dirix grinned, the first to react to his presence. Anika gave him a little wave, then focused back on the map. “You’d bet on the Liddies over Muzzen?” she asked. “Damn. He’d be hurt. Don’t let him hear that.”

“Already did.” Jesper turned to see Muzzen approach, two cups of beer held in one large hand and a chair gripped in the other. 

“Hey there, Muz,” Jesper greeted sheepishly, accepting the drink he was handed. “Sorry. What can I say? You’re good, but bullets still do more damage than fists.”

“He’d have a gun,” Dirix piped up. “We wouldn’t send him unarmed, man! That’s just not right.”

“I don’t know,” Anika frowned. “I might have to side with Jesper on this one, Muzzen. When’s the last time you fired a gun?”

Muzzen pointedly took a drink to avoid answering. Jesper laughed alongside the others, knocking back some of his own beer.

They talked for a good hour, laughing and sharing stories, empty glasses piling up on the table. Wylan sat with them occasionally, but he often drifted off. Jesper knew he was looking for Erry, the new young Spider Kaz had hired. Soon after the kid joined the Dregs, Wylan had befriended him. Erry owned a little recorder that Wylan was teaching him to play, and they spent some decent time together in between Erry’s scouting missions. 

“He needs family,” Wylan had explained to Jesper. “Or at least someone that can look after him better. I’m certainly not trusting Kaz with that,” to which Jesper had chuckled; the idea of Kaz being anything close to nurturing was laughably impractical. 

Muzzen had slipped away to join the card game. Dirix was reenacting a story from his youth, as he was prone to doing when drunk, gesturing wildly. His chair wobbled, nearly sending him sprawling. A pale hand slammed down on the wooden chair back to steady him, and Jesper looked up to see Kaz standing by their table with a frown on his face. “What are you fools doing, drinking in the middle of the day?” he rasped.

Jesper laughed. “We’re having fun! You take things too seriously, Kaz. When was the last time you had a drink?”

“Probably never,” Anika murmured into her glass, snorting when Kaz gave her a look.

“Roeder will be back soon with a report,” said Kaz. “Anika, will you be sober enough to understand what he’s saying?”

She saluted him wildly, the gesture more disrespectful than anything. “You got it, boss.”

Kaz just stared at her. “Well, I’m not quite there,” Anika admitted. “Give me ten minutes to sober up. I promise I’m not a lightweight.”

“She’s definitely a lightweight,” Dirix slurred into his own glass.

“You get tipsy after half a glass, Dirix. You’re not one to talk.”

“Alright!” Jesper cut in brightly. “This room has seen too many brawls. Why don’t both of you go walk it off.”

“I can do that,” Dirix mumbled, nearly falling as he stood from his seat. He clapped Jesper on the shoulder. “You’re a good man, Jesper Fahey. A good man.” He stumbled away, Anika following close behind.

“If being a good man is breaking up a couple of drunk friends, that bar must be real low,” Jesper laughed. 

Kaz huffed. “Agreed.” He muttered something undoubtedly vulgar under his breath as he walked away. 

“Hey, wait!” Jesper said, keeping in-step with Kaz as he went down the hall to his office. “It’s been a few weeks! What’s new with you?”

“There might be a new gang on the streets,” said Kaz.

Jesper stopped. Kaz kept walking. “Hold on,” he said, hurrying to follow Kaz once more. “Since when? Why didn’t I know about this?”

Kaz pushed his office door open, taking a seat behind the desk. Jesper took the chair across from him. “Three weeks ago I went after Lawrence Boothe to threaten the Razorgulls out of our territory,” he explained. “Afterward at the docks, I saw a man with a phoenix tattoo on his neck.”

“On his neck?” Jesper echoed. “Not on the forearm, like a traditional gang member. Are you sure it wasn’t decorative?”

“That’s possible. But there was something strange about the man.”

Jesper frowned. “And you didn’t look into it?” he asked, feeling slightly foolish for asking so many questions. But this was all big news to him, and the thought of a new threat creeping in was worrisome.

Kaz glared at him, clearly irritated now. “No.”

Jesper was mildly concerned. That wasn’t like Kaz at all, to keep from pursuing such a lead. He decided not to push, though, because Jesper had known Kaz long enough to understand how pointless it was to try and argue with him.

“At least not until now,” Kaz continued. “I told Anika about it yesterday, because she’s set to raid one of the Razorgull ships at midnight, and I don’t want any surprises. Roeder should be back soon, if he’s found anything.”

“Alright.” Jesper sprawled back in his seat. “I’ll listen in. Just in case Anika still isn’t all there.”

Kaz nodded, pulling a stack of paperwork toward him. Jesper watched him work, sometimes fiddling with a few of the pens strayed across the desk. Then he turned to cleaning one of his prized pistols with the cloth tucked in his pocket. Then he simply watched the clock behind Kaz’s head, watching the minutes tick by.

“I don’t know how you spend all your time doing this,” Jesper said eventually. “I would have died of boredom years ago.”

Kaz looked up to glare at him. He was definitely about to tell Jesper off, but Roeder interrupted when he hurtled into the office, barely refraining from slamming into Kaz’s desk. 

“How bad?” Kaz asked immediately. Even if Roeder hadn’t been running, he hadn’t stopped to knock, which showed how frantic he was.

“Bad,” Roeder answered. “Real bad, boss.”

“Find Anika,” Kaz commanded. The words were barely out of his mouth before Roeder sprinted back into the hall to track down the lieutenant.

Kaz swore. He tucked his paperwork in one of the lower desk drawers, drumming his fingers on the table impatiently until Roeder returned with Anika in tow. She had clearly sobered up, whether because of the time that passed or Roeder’s desperation Jesper didn’t know. 

As soon as the door was safely shut, Roedor started recounting what he’d learned. “I saw a woman on the street with a phoenix tattoo,” he explained. “So I followed her to this abandoned property, about eight blocks from here. It was set up like a meeting hall inside. I was watching from the top window, it was hard to see in, but there were a whole lot of them in that room, boss.”

“How many?” Kaz asked. Jesper was almost afraid to hear Roeder’s answer.

“I’d say over a hundred.” Anika stared at the Spider incredulously. Kaz remained impassive, but Jesper knew he couldn’t be happy about the news. How had such a large group gathered without any of the Dregs knowing?

“And there was a man in the front, clearly the boss, presenting something to them all,” Roeder continued. “Big guy- he probably has more than a few inches on you, Jesper. And he was big too, built more like a bruiser than a boss. Everything about him seemed different.”

“Everything about this entire situation is different,” Anika pointed out. “Kaz, how concerned should we be?”

“We need to find a way to infiltrate their meetings,” said Kaz. Jesper didn’t fail to notice how he avoided answering Anika’s question. “They’ll undoubtedly meet again. Roeder, get the Ketterdam map from the cabinet,” he gestured to the far wall, “and show me where you found the gang meeting. Jesper, you’re coming with me. We need to learn more about their motives; at the very least, we need a name.”

Jesper grinned. “It’s been a while since I got the chance to use one of these babies,” he said brightly, patting the pistols holstered at his waist. 

Kaz stood, reaching for his cane. Jesper noticed that his same old black gloves were already on. “Anika, there’s someone waiting for you at the Crow Club.”

“Who?” she asked.

“An old informant,” Kaz said distractedly, studying the map Roeder had laid out and marked. “She deals in information. Give her the letter in your pocket, and she’ll exchange it for the intel you need about the _Pathflight_.”

Anika stared at him in disbelief, pulling the folded paper from the front pocket of her trousers. “When did you even-”

“If we leave now, the odds of us catching one of the gang members are more favorable,” Kaz spoke over her. “Jesper, let’s go.”

Jesper gave Anika and Roeder a brief wave before he followed Kaz into the hall.

~--~

“Maybe everyone already left,” Jesper offered.

Kaz and Jesper had already been waiting in the shadows outside of the decrepit meeting house for nearly two hours. The only windows were on the second floor, but Kaz was afraid they’d be discovered if they risked trying to glimpse what was going on inside. 

Kaz shook his head, holding up a hand for Jesper to wait. Kaz crossed through a side alley and slunk around the corner. After a moment, Kaz gestured for Jesper to follow.

Jesper peered around the corner as well, in time to see a small figure with short hair hurrying into the crowd on the main road. “They just came from the back entrance,” Kaz murmured. “I’ll approach from behind. You should cut through the alley beside Cilla’s Fry to head them off. Keep it discreet. I don’t want the _stadwatch_ to come running.”

Jesper nodded, touching a hand to the gun at his belt for reassurance. He did as Kaz instructed, taking another shortcut to dodge some of the pedestrians on the crowded street. Kaz had managed to move faster, though, because when Jesper reached the opening of a new alley Kaz had his gun drawn on the young woman that they’d tailed. 

Jesper drew his own weapon for good measure.

“You can put those away,” the woman drawled. Based on her clothes, Jesper guessed she worked at the docks. “I know you want information from me. You won’t shoot.”

“Who are you?” Kaz asked, scowling. He clearly didn’t like being kept in the dark, and frankly, neither did Jesper. 

“I don’t think I want you to know that, Kaz Brekker,” she smirked. “I know you, of course. The Bastard of the Barrel. Now King of the Barrel- quite an upgrade to the title, I’m sure you’re impressed with yourself. And I don’t know who this crony is,” the woman continued, waving a careless hand toward Jesper, “not that I give a shit.” 

Jesper realized there was a knife grasped loosely in her left palm. When did that happen? He hadn’t even seen her draw the blade.

“I’m only going to ask you one more time,” said Kaz, more menacingly this time. “Who are you?” 

“Oh, you poor fool,” said the woman. Kaz bristled. “This must be difficult for you. I’ll give you a hint, just to make things a little bit more fun. We call ourselves the Fire Fliers.”

“That seems like a betrayal to your boss, telling us that.” Jesper probably should have kept his mouth shut and let Kaz do the talking, but he couldn’t help himself.

The woman shrugged a shoulder. “Blind loyalty to one’s gang is the worst type of stupid,” she said briskly. “I don’t give a damn either way, what the boss might do to me if he finds out I snitched. Ketterdam and its gangs; you’re all little more than mutts hunting each other for scraps.”

Kaz raised his gun. “Then I suppose you’ll have no problem telling us the name of your boss as well.”

Her laugh was delighted. “I can’t just drop all the pieces into your lap,” she scolded, tone more fit for speaking to a misbehaving child. “Where’s your sense of mystery, Kaz Brekker? Of adventure?”

“I don’t particularly care for either,” said Kaz, with his eyebrows raised.

“You wouldn’t,” said the woman. “You’re too small-minded. I want to go now,” she said suddenly, in a strangely petulant manner. “Put the guns down. I’d hate to have to slash this pretty face.” She waved the knife in front of Kaz for emphasis.

Kaz cocked his gun. “How much would you bet on whether or not I shoot you right now?”

“All my life’s savings,” she boasted. “I told you, Kaz Brekker. You won’t shoot me, because if we cross paths in the future I might have more information for you.”

Jesper could almost see Kaz’s internal conflict. He shoved his weapon back in his pocket. “Go,” Kaz dismissed her. With another laugh, the woman slipped away.

He returned his pistol to his side holster, and watched as Kaz did the same. “I don’t know if I’m impressed or disturbed by her,” Jesper said.

“Both,” Kaz muttered. They started heading back to the Slat. “I’ll have Roeder track her down, and see what leverage I can gain against her.”

“She seems to know a lot about you. Is that cause for concern?”

“The list of people that claim to know my secrets is longer than my list of enemies,” Kaz said passively. “Everything she said is common street gossip.” 

Roeder was waiting expectantly by the front door when they returned to the Slat. “Did you learn anything?” he asked.

“It is a new gang,” Kaz answered. “They call themselves the Fire Fliers.”

“Fire Fliers?” Wylan asked, walking over to stand beside Jesper. “I’ve never heard of them.”

“Me neither,” said Roeder.

“That’s the point. They operate discreetly. Roeder, brief Erry,” Kaz instructed. “You both need to find out something more about this gang.”

“Sure thing, boss.” Roeder slipped away, heading to the second floor. Kaz ventured back outside, perhaps to check on Anika at the Crow Club; it didn’t particularly matter to Jesper right now.

Wylan wrapped his arm around Jesper’s waist. “I have a feeling things will only get worse from here,” he murmured.

Jesper shifted closer, resting his arm against Wylan’s shoulders. He nodded. “Something tells me we’ll need to stick around the Slat for a while.”

“Yeah,” Wylan agreed, his mouth set in a grim line. “Yeah, I think so too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is kiiiiind of filler but it's Fine because all plots have to start somewhere  
> I have absolutely zero idea where the random Fire Flier woman came from- the only note in my outline was "Jesper and Kaz corner a Fire Flier member and learn the name of the gang. Kaz starts a hunt for the name of the boss" and that is all.  
> when I read that scene back, the woman's voice (no I don't even have a name for her, this is terrible) in my head kind of sounded like cat adams? (if you know who that is I will love you forever, and if you want someone to talk to about cm please message me at @monochromatic-starlight on tumblr)- like she has an arrogant but very slightly whiny tone. and she thinks she's above everyone else. anyway, now I need to write her into my outline because I actually loved writing that scene. Kaz was Not Pleased by her being so clearly ahead of him. He's out of the loop, which is obviously quite rare for him (if only the Wraith was still in Ketterdam... not yet but soon, and then the angst really picks up :D)  
> also the first part of this chapter is strange, but I've seen the rising theme in this story and it's discontent (wow I sound more like an English major everyday). but jesper is absolutely in love with Wylan, by the way. they will not break up in this fic! i really love their relationship. jesper's just struggling and slightly antsy because he's used to being in the center of Ketterdam's chaos and that's hard for him to let go of  
> why did I write a full novel in the notes here?? if you read through all that, kudos to you. i clearly need to go to bed.  
> next chapter will 100% actually be posted on Wednesday for real this time, because I wrote the first half of it back in March, and it's currently at 3.3K words already. It's a Nina POV! and there is Nina/Kaz banter which is one of my favorite things!!  
> alright idk if anyone will actually see this but goodbye


	4. 4 ~ Nina

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still haunted by the past, Nina returns to Ketterdam. She doesn't know what to expect. Nina discovers the name of the Fire Fliers boss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some of the dialogue in this chapter is my favorite. also I want to reiterate that there are major spoilers for Crooked Kingdom in this chapter, in case you missed that in the tags.
> 
> hope you enjoy!

Something was wrong. Nina could feel it, but she couldn’t place what exactly it was.

She and Matthias were seated on the edge of a small snowbank, overlooking a frozen lake deep in the forests of Fjerda. A brittle, icy wind blew past, whipping Nina’s hair around her face. She didn’t mind it, partially due to her warm, bulky overcoat, but mainly because the big _druskelle_ seated beside her provided partial shelter from the cold.

The thought made Nina laugh. Matthias turned to her with a furrowed brow. “What?” he asked.

She giggled. “Nothing.”

He wasn’t deterred. “Tell me, Nina,” said Matthias, in that gentle voice she’d come to love.

“Alright. I was just thinking that I’m only keeping you around because you protect me from the cold.”

Matthias huffed, shifting closer. “That’s the only reason,” he said, deadpan- but Nina knew he was secretly amused.

Nina smiled at him, feeling coy. “The only one.”

“Perhaps I’ll have to convince you of another.” Matthias said it shyly, his ears slightly red. Nina felt a burst of joy at the sight. 

She leaned closer, and he followed suit. Their lips almost brushed, and Nina closed her eyes in anticipation of the kiss.

Then there was a large cracking sound, a resounding boom. Nina’s eyes flew back open.

In front of her, Matthias was now a rotting corpse.

Nina slapped a hand over her mouth, failing to stifle her cry. The snow around them was crumbling, revealing ice underneath that slowly began to splinter apart. And Matthias- he was sinking, his blue-gray, withering hands clawing uselessly at the surrounding ice.

“Save me, Nina!” The cry was garbled, Matthias’ jaw slackening as his skin peeled away to reveal glistening bone. Blood seeped from an open wound in his chest, staining the snow crimson. The worst part was that Nina could feel him, thanks to the _parem_ and her repulsive new power. He was cold and strange and wrong in a way that made Nina cringe away from him.

“Why didn’t you save me, Nina?” Matthias was just a skeleton, now. Nina tried to reach for him, but it was too late, and he slipped away under the ice with a disturbing clack of bones.

Silence, all-consuming and dreadful, swept in on a new flurry of snowfall. “Come back,” Nina wailed, drowning out the quiet. “I’m sorry, Matthias, please, come back-”

She awoke with a jolt, suddenly yanked back to reality. Nina was in a boat on the True Sea, and she was not screaming like in what she now realized was a dream, but a fresh wave of tears poured down her face.

Nina sat up in her uncomfortable seat carefully. She’d fallen asleep in a strange position, and now her neck ached. A young Zemeni man, another passenger, was staring at her. Nina quickly dried her face and looked away.

Oh, Matthias. Nina wished she was on the top deck of the ship; she could use the fresh sea air to clear her head. Instead her seat was in the belly of the ship, with some of the other passengers who bought cheaper tickets.

The nightmares had begun shortly after Nina purchased her ticket back to Ketterdam. She’d been staying in Ravka after her quest to Fjerda, and Nina wasn’t ready, perhaps she never would be, but it was time to return to Kerch.

Plus, she missed her friends dearly, and all the adventures they’d had together. She missed Inej the most, with a longing ache in her heart, but also Jesper and Wylan and- even Kaz, Nina thought with a laugh, brooding as he was.

She tried to take a deep breath, calming herself. Matthias was dead, Nina reminded herself firmly. Long dead, now. But the thought of being in Ketterdam only stirred up the memories of every moment she had spent with him.

Nina kept her eyes open, afraid to fall asleep again. She centered herself around the familiar. She would never see Matthias again, and that was the bitter reality she couldn’t face. Nina needed to calm herself; that was another truth to focus on.

The ship’s porter came down the stairs, metal and wood creaking under his shoes with every step. “Ten minutes to shore!” he called. “Ten minutes to shore!”

Nina sat up straighter, folding her hands over the small bag in her lap. All she could do now was wait. Whatever trepidation she felt about returning to Ketterdam, it was better than the uneasiness of being on this ship. 

Sometimes Nina felt like her life was just a cycle of escapes from the events of her past. She sighed at the thought, overcome by a weariness that had nothing to do with her poor sleep over the past few nights. 

It was time to return to Ketterdam. She didn’t have to like it, but it needed to be done.

The thought of leaving anyone else behind made her breath catch in her throat.

~--~

Nina breathed in the cool morning air, stepping onto the dock, bag clutched safely in hand to deter any roaming pickpockets. The sun had just begun to rise, painting the city with soft light.

She considered heading straight for the Slat. Nina planned to make a visit there as late as tomorrow evening anyway, and there would surely be some space available for her to stay. But a part of her was strangely nervous at the thought of seeing everyone again. Would they be angry with her for disappearing? Her departure from Ketterdam was merely a haze of blurry grief; Matthias’ murder had blocked out everything else. 

Nina decided she would check into a small inn before reaching out to the Dregs. And before that, she was going to pay a visit to her favorite eatery in Ketterdam. Because it was a flawed city, and all its inhabitants had seen rotten things, but despite all the chaos there was still a chance to buy the best waffles Nina had ever eaten.

~--~

She delayed visiting the Slat for as long as possible.

Nina had had her fill of waffles and hot, slightly burnt coffee down at a quaint little restaurant called Cilla’s Fry. The owner still remembered her, and they’d taken the time to catch up on the latest gossip. Then she’d walked around for hours, stepping into a few shops without buying anything, and passing the White Rose with a brief, nostalgic glance. 

Slowly, the small details and eccentricities of Ketterdam came creeping back into her memory.

Now the sun was on the verge of setting, the skyline smudged with golden light and orange and pink hues, painting the sides of buildings. After meeting with the Dregs she would find an inn to stay at for the night, but that would wait until the sky was dark; prices always dropped after ten bells, one of the first things Nina had learned about the city.

That meant there was no real reason left to stall. Nina set out for the Slat with an increasingly nervous feeling, counting the blocks as she walked. The streets were darker now, becoming increasingly less populated, which made her journey more brisk.

When she reached the Slat Nina hovered outside the door for a moment, composing herself, before she headed inside.

The common area was empty; Nina supposed many of the Dregs had jobs to do at this hour. She could hear movement and low conversation from within the kitchen, but made no move to greet whoever was inside. The thought of seeing Jesper, Wylan and Inej again was suddenly overwhelming. Kaz, Nina said to herself. He would be easier to talk to; there would be no questions from him, no platitudes, nothing that could be translated into an “I missed you.” 

Nina retreated down the hall to where Haskell’s old office was. Kaz had stripped the old man of his title, so it only made sense for him to claim the office as the new boss. 

As expected, he was seated at his desk working. Distantly, Nina wondered when Kaz even slept.

Nina closed the door behind her, stepping into the light. “Hello, Kaz.”

He didn’t look up from whatever he was furiously writing. “Nina.”

“Surprised to see me back?” she asked. 

Kaz glanced up, the brief moment of eye contact all he was willing to spare her, before returning to his work. “No.”

“Of course.” Nina huffed out a laugh. “I’ve been in Ketterdam for a day already. I’m sure you knew the moment I arrived.”

Kaz nodded absentmindedly, pen still fervently scratching against the page. He was full of some strange, frantic energy, the likes of which Nina had never seen.

She watched him work for a moment. His sleeves were rolled up and the same old black gloves covered his hands. A strand of hair flopped in his face. He seemed to be unaware of his disheveled appearance- either that, or he simply didn’t care. 

“Jesper and Wylan are out on a job,” Kaz rasped, when she didn’t say anything.

“Sorry, what?”

“I assumed you’d want to see them.” His dark eyes were considering her carefully. Nina shifted, disliking the scrutiny. She’d forgotten how adept he was at reading people.

“I do.” Kaz looked like he didn’t believe her. “Eventually!” Nina added hastily. “It’s just been so long. I need to… figure out what to say to them.” The other three might be angry. They might question why she’d waited so long to return to Kerch. Nina wouldn’t know what to do if she needed their forgiveness.

“Understood.” There it was- the quiet disinterest in other people’s lives that Nina had been hoping for from Kaz.

“You mentioned Jesper and Wylan. Where’s Inej?” Nina decided to ask. 

“Still at sea.” She didn’t miss the way Kaz’s jaw tightened when he said it.

“She’s been gone all this time?” That surprised Nina. Of course, she knew about Inej’s plans to hunt slavers. But she also knew her friend had left things- and people- behind in Ketterdam.

People. They’d all lost someone here. Nina had looked over her shoulder for Matthias’ presence five times in the span of just a few hours.

Nina pushed those thoughts away. Now was not the time.

“She comes back occasionally,” Kaz answered. If he thought his tone was passably casual, he couldn’t be further from the truth. 

Nina raised her eyebrows. “Right. I won’t bring that up again.” She wondered what terms he and Inej had left on, but soothing that curiosity would probably wind up with Kaz putting her head on a stick. “Whatever you’re working on- can I help?” Nina meant it as more of a taunt than anything, sure he would take it as a blow to his pride that she was questioning his capability.

Kaz put down his pen, seemingly satisfied with his work. “Yes, you can.”

Nina blinked, the response throwing her off. Kaz smirked at her. “Too much action for you, love?” he asked mockingly. “You must be tired from all your traveling.”

“Ass,” she muttered. “What’s the job?”

“There are signs of a new gang,” Kaz answered. He rolled his sleeves back down, buttoning them at the wrists. “Strange tattooes, meetings at late hours. Roeder found them congregating. We cornered a newer member- they call themselves the Fire Fliers.”

“That sounds exciting,” Nina said sarcastically. “What is it you need me to do?”

“We tracked a few of the members to the northwest, closest to Sixth Harbor. I need you to come with me and scout some of the local businesses to see who we can find.”

“I can do that,” Nina agreed. She hadn’t planned to dive headfirst into gang business the day she arrived in Ketterdam. But there was no reason for her to refuse- sure, spending the evening with Kaz Brekker wasn’t exactly her definition of a good time, but there were worse alternatives. 

“Good. Wear something with long sleeves and a low neckline,” he instructed.

Nina snorted. “Do I want to know?” she asked.

Kaz tilted his head, considering her as he stood from the desk and reached for his cane. “No, I’m sure you don’t. We leave when you’re ready.”

Charming. Kaz was a gentleman as always. “I’ll prepare now,” she agreed.

~---~

If Nina had known their journey would be this long, she would have planned ahead and brought snacks.

They traveled most of the way in a canal boat, heads bowed low to avoid the trained eye of the patrolling _stadwatch_. Kaz wore a hat and he’d forgone using his cane; Nina was dressed in a scratchy wool dress that did little for the best parts of her figure. It would be near-impossible for the _stadwatch_ to identify them as part of a gang. Kaz had even chosen a different suit, the fabric deep navy blue pinstripes instead of his typical dreary black. 

Their subtle disguises allowed Nina to relax, but only slightly. She’d been away from Ketterdam for nearly two years, but the danger of the narrow streets still kept her on edge. That instinct would likely never fade away.

Kaz was poor company, as expected. The only time he spoke to her was to clarify his instructions: isolate anyone with a phoenix tattoo and learn as much as possible about the Fire Fliers.

“Through what means?” Nina asked.

Kaz raised an eyebrow. “Whatever works.”

That was the extent of their conversation. Even when they exited the small boat and made their way onto a crowded street, Kaz remained stoic, staring straight ahead. Nina occupied herself by looking at the sky. Ketterdam was always covered in thick grey smog no matter where you were, but here Nina could see oily clouds of smoke puffing upward on the skyline, a telltale marker of the Warehouse District. 

Kaz kept a slow pace. Nina wondered if it was a casual act to blend in, or if he needed to move slowly because of his bad leg. She didn’t dare ask.

When they turned a corner, Kaz smacked shoulders with a harried man rushing past in the other direction. “Mind your path, sir!” he huffed furiously, disappearing past them in a whirlwind of anxiety and sweat. 

“Sorry,” Kaz remarked sarcastically, too quiet for the passerby to actually hear. Nina watched in disbelief as he sorted through a thin stack of _kruge_ , carelessly discarding the poor man’s stolen wallet in an empty alley.

“That wasn’t really necessary,” Nina found herself saying. 

Kaz shrugged, tucking the money into his pocket. “Let me have my fun, Nina dear.”

She rolled her eyes, but opted to say nothing. 

Eventually they reached a dingy bar. A sign above the door read ‘The Quilted Cavern.’ Half the letters were faded and streaked with grime. “Classy,” Nina laughed. “But I suppose I’ve seen worse. Where are we in the Warehouse District?”

Kaz lifted a hand to ruffle his hair. Nina was shocked when she realized his hands were bare. She’d forgotten the accursed gloves weren’t sewn to his skin. “Act natural,” he said, ignoring her question. “Play along.”

“What am I supposed to play along wi-” Nina cut herself off when, to her eternal surprise, Kaz linked their arms and pushed the door to the bar open.

Her first impression was that the interior of the tavern was nicer than she’d anticipated. The handful of patrons present were seated at small tables scattered around the room. The chairs were polished wood. All the men and women that craned their heads to look at her and Kaz were by no means rich- but they dressed decently, and drank a deep amber beverage from clean glasses.

“Welcome!” the bartender yelled jovially. He had a young face and a trimmed beard. Nina felt like she was intruding on some bubble of happiness completely alien to the ambiance of Ketterdam. 

Kaz smiled in greeting. There was nothing dark in it, no trace of a smirk or cruel sneer the way Nina was used to. This was an expression born from true happiness, no matter how fake it really was. She’d never seen anything like it on his face. 

He’d told her to act natural, and that was the only thing that kept Nina from gaping openly. She smiled politely at the barkeep.

“What business?” Kaz asked, leading her over to the bar. He only released her arm when they both slid onto stools. Her seat had an actual cushion. The last time Nina had seen something like that in Ketterdam, she’d still been employed at The White Rose. 

“The usual, my friend,” the bartender said. He pulled a cloth from his belt and started wiping the counter. “Business is booming! What brings you fine young people here on a night like this?”

“We traveled from the Southern Colonies,” Kaz told him. “My grandfather was a mercher in Ketterdam years ago. We came to see the sights. In fact,” he glanced over at Nina, his expression almost coy, “we’re celebrating our marriage.”

Nina was going to murder him. She was going to find out when and how he’d learned to act like a normal human being, and then she would kill him.

“Lads and ladies, we have some newlyweds here!” the barkeep called. They received a scattered bout of applause. Nina giggled, slipping off her stool to offer a brief curtsy to the other patrons. She used the gesture to scan the room. A man sitting in the corner caught her eye; he drank alone, leering at her possessively. The small phoenix tattoo inked above his collarbone was impossible to miss.

That was their target. 

When she returned to her seat Kaz was watching her, his smile more relaxed now. Nina smiled back- to anyone else, they appeared to be a young, lovestruck couple. But Nina knew she had conveyed her understanding to Kaz.

“Thank you, good sir,” said Kaz, turning his attention back to the bartender. “We stumbled across this place yesterday morning, but it was much too early for drinking, and Laela here was exhausted from all the travel.”

“Yes, we got so terribly lost on our way here,” Nina agreed. She leaned forward to whisper obviously to the barkeep. “I adore my husband. He’s a fine man, a mercher by blood and by mind. But the man cannot navigate a map to save his life!” she tittered. “We spent half the day in the Geldin District before we found ourselves in the right place.”

Kaz barely fought down a scowl. Nina whole-heartedly believed he deserved it, for starting the whole ‘lovestruck marriage’ scheme. She needed to have her fun too. 

“Ah, all in good spirits!” the bartender laughed. “Ketterdam can be a tricky city. I’ve lived here since I was a lad. Call me Timm, darlin’. I know this city like the back of my hand. I can help you two out, if you ever need it.”

“I appreciate it, sir,” said Kaz. “The name’s Jordan, it’s a pleasure. Maybe you can help us out. I’ve been looking for work around here. Laela’s been thinking Ketterdam might be a nice place to settle down.” 

“Thought you were a mercher?” Timm questioned. “You’re not in with the Council?” 

“Not yet,” Kaz admitted. “News travels, you know. Back at home there was big talk about what happened here with Jan Van Eck a few months prior. I’m a little wary.” 

Timm frowned. The other customers sitting near them quieted, turning away. “We don’t say that name around here,” he explained. 

“Sorry,” Kaz frowned, feigning concern. “Naming him is bad luck?”

“The worst,” said Timm, shuddering. “He was arrested the same day plague sirens came back, nearly two years ago. Some of the shops down in the Barrel never really recovered from that sickness, you know. There was a whole big mess. Up here in the northwest, we try to avoid the Barrel. Too many gangs, too much death around there. We keep separate.”

Not anymore, Nina thought grimly. That certainly wasn’t true if the Fire Fliers were as heavily involved in the Barrel as Kaz expected.

“Understood,” Kaz nodded. “Now, about those jobs?”

“Right, right. There’s plenty of factory work around here, if you know who to ask. It’s pretty strenuous. Forgive me for intruding, Jordan, but that stuff is real heavy labor. I noticed a bit of a limp when you and your wife were coming in.” 

Kaz looked down, painting a picture of shame. He fiddled with his sleeve. “Farming accident,” he admitted quietly. “Da didn’t make it. I did, barely. The leg hasn’t been quite right since.”

“Terrible,” Timm said, shaking his head. He pulled a glass out from under the bar. “Drink for free tonight, friend.” 

“Appreciate it,” Kaz told him, accepting the glass. He clearly had no intention of drinking it, by the way he left it on the shiny counter. “I’m always trying to cover up the injury. Make it seem less noticeable. Even if I do end up with the Council, I still need some quick _kruge_ for now to support Laela.”

“Of course, lad. There’s a textiles factory no more than two blocks away. Turn right outta here and keep walking straight. The road’ll lead you right to it. Ask for Markus, and tell him Timm sent you. If you can keep him from noticing the leg, you’ll get your hire.”

“And if he does ask about the limp?”

“Well…” Timm trailed off. He was still smiling pleasantly, but Nina noticed the tension on his face. “Don’t look back,” he started again, “but there’s a man in the corner. He has a mean bird tattoo on his neck. There’s some shady stuff going on with his people. But I’ve asked around, and it pays damn well.” 

Kaz tapped his glass thoughtfully. “I’ll keep that in mind. I’m grateful we found this place, Timm. I’d feel much more lost in this city without your advice.”

“You know where to find me,” Timm grinned. “I’m always looking to help a new guy out. We have a little inn on the floor up top. Doesn’t hold many, but we keep it for anyone that needs a place to stay.” 

“Sweet Laela, you can stay here,” Kaz told Nina. “Enjoy the company and drink while I step out and track down this Markus.”

“Of course, darling,” Nina cooed. His instructions were clear; the only man she would be mingling with tonight was the Fire Flier hunched in the corner. 

Kaz nodded to Timm in farewell, sliding off his stool. It would have been more natural if Kaz kissed her cheek, or at least the hand of his “wife”- but he didn’t seem eager to touch her again, and Nina certainly couldn’t argue with that sentiment. 

She lingered at the bar, making small talk with Timm for a bit. When Nina deemed it safe, she tugged her neckline down, took Kaz’s untouched drink and sidled over to the Fire Flier’s table. “Hello,” she greeted him. 

“Hello, darling,” the man purred, smirking at her. He didn’t even make a pass at subtlety as his gaze drifted down to her cleavage.

Disgusting. But it got the job done. 

“I couldn’t help but notice you sitting here, drinking all alone.” She angled her chin down and looked up at him coyly. 

“Maybe I was waiting for a pretty lady like you to come along and keep me company.” He leaned in closer, eyes shamelessly raking over every sparse inch of her bare skin. 

Nina scooted her chair around the table, making sure she was close enough to touch. “And maybe I was looking for a strong,” she squeezed his bicep for emphasis, letting her thumb drift up toward his tattoo, “handsome young man to drink with.”

“Here I was, thinking you had a husband attached to your arm.”

“I do,” Nina admitted. “But marriage is just business. There’s no passion between me and Jordan.”

“Well,” the man grinned. “I certainly know a thing or two about passion.”

Nina removed her hand from his arm, holding it out to shake. “Laela.”

He took her hand, fingertips lingering against her wrist. “The name’s Daron, little lady. I have a feeling we’ll be getting much better acquainted tonight.”

~--~

The poor man didn’t stand a chance. 

If she didn’t have a job to do, Nina would almost pity Daron. The man had clearly been drunk before she and Kaz had even entered the Quilted Cavern, and now he was well past sober. She almost didn’t understand how he was still conscious. 

Timm, the kind soul he appeared to be, kept serving them glass after glass of liquor. Every time he let his gaze linger on Nina, he seemed uncomfortable. Judging by the way Timm kept glancing at the door, he was waiting for Kaz to come back and find out about how unfaithful his ‘wife’ was. 

Daron thought he and Nina were getting drunk together. The poor fool didn’t realize she’d been swapping her full liquor glasses with his empty ones; there wasn’t a drop of alcohol in her system. 

“And then Prenten dragged us all ou’ of bed befoe the sun ev’n comed up!” Daron slurred.

There it was, finally- a name. “Who’s Prenten?” Nina asked as innocently as she could, gently stroking Daron’s greasy hair. She would need to wash her hands after this. 

“The big ol’ boss man,” said Daron, waving his hand around. They were running out of room on the table for new alcohol glasses. Nina had already sat here with him for hours. 

Next time, she would wheedle the specifics out of Kaz before offering her assistance. 

As if on cue, Kaz strolled back in, his hair unkempt and his collar loose. Timm immediately busied himself behind the bar. As the only patrons left in the tavern, Daron slumped back in his chair, and Nina stood up hurriedly. 

“I see you found someone to drink with,” Kaz scowled. “We’re leaving, Laela. I don’t want you hanging off of drunks like him.”

Nina pouted at him. “Oh, but darling! I was having so much fun!” she cooed.

“Fun!” Daron echoed, raising his glass. Half the contents sloshed over the side.

“We’re leaving,” Kaz repeated. He nodded briefly to Timm, then made his way to the door. He let it close behind Nina as they made their way back onto the street. The night air was frigid, and the path was now almost deserted. 

However Kaz had dredged up his facade of normalcy before, it vanished as soon as the Quilted Cavern was out of sight. As if a switch had been flipped, he was back to his old self, shoulders stiff and a frown on his face. 

“I don’t know how you managed to act normal like that,” Nina stated plainly. “But I hope it made your evening more fun than mine.”

Kaz chose not to answer. “What did you learn?” he asked instead.

“Daron comes from a broken home,” Nina began. “He went through each year of his childhood individually for me. What details would you like me to recount?”

Kaz scowled. “You know what I meant. The important details.”

“Shame. You’re missing out. But, yes, I managed to loosen his tongue. That man cannot hold his liquor. The Fire Fliers operate primarily out of the Warehouse District, but they have safe houses scattered across the city. Don’t ask me where- getting specifics was too suspicious. Also, they’ve taken over Sixth Harbor completely.”

Kaz’s frown deepened. “Every dock? Harley’s Pointers used to control half.”

“Not anymore, assuming Daron wasn’t just trying to impress me. Also, he told me the boss goes by Prenten. I couldn’t get his first name.”

“Prenten,” Kaz mused. “I’m not familiar.”

“That’s a problem for another night. You’re welcome, by the way. Tolerating Daron was exhausting.” 

“We needed intel. This was the best way to get it.”

“Sure it was.” 

“You were the one that decided to seduce him. I told you to get information however you chose.”

“Don’t make me throttle you.” Nina paused in the street, making Kaz stop as well. “And one more thing,” Nina said slowly, leaning closer to emphasize her point. Kaz took a small step away. “If you ever pull a stunt like that again, pretending we’re husband and wife, I will not hesitate to dump you in the harbor. Or at the feet of an eager _stadwatch_ guard.”

Kaz raised his eyebrows, something that could almost be considered a grin stretching across his face, as if he were goading her to follow through on that threat. “Noted.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> poor nina :( she never really settled her grief about matthias' murder. (did she, in King of Scars? I mentioned that I never read it. Oh well- hopefully this is still relatively canon compliant)  
> if it seems a tad ooc that she's so apprehensive about seeing the others again, I personally thought she'd feel that way because it's been 1&3/4 years since she saw them all. that's actually a pretty long time, especially since they got to Bond over all the messy adventures in canon.  
> also kaz and nina bantering is one of my favorite things. nina's snark? incredible. kaz's (canon) sarcastic pet names for her? also incredible. another one of my favorite things is kaz essentially being a con artist. he's a thief and magician, why not that too? anyway it just amuses me to think that he knows how to act charming to get what he wants, but immediately drops the persona as soon as possible, reverting back to his usual grumpy self.  
> also, I made him pick the pseudonym 'Jordan,' as you might have noticed. as in canon with Johannus Rietveld, I think Kaz incorporates Jordie's name into his schemes as an odd sort of tribute to his dead brother. I just thought that was interesting!  
> the next chapter is a wylan POV- I'm majorly struggling with it, so it's unlikely that'll be up later today. i'll probably just pair it with chapter six in next week's update (which is an Inej POV!!! I'm very excited. the first big angsty moment occurs in that chapter, and it also concludes part 1 of the story; the plot broadensn and some adventure starts soon thereafter)  
> i need to stop writing novels in the end notes. last thing- i made an soc side blog earlier because i had a headcanon i wanted to post. so now i'll have a separate space to ramble about these books! if you want to do the same, join me at @shadowbusiness (i don't have the time rn to do the link thing, and i'm lazy)  
> actual last thing- this fic hit 10K+ words! (small milestones are important too). and my master google doc is at 41 pages (ik it's spaced out for better reading format, but still. this isn't even 1/12 of the way finished and it's already that long, which i think is exciting)  
> now i'm actually done. again, if anyone read all that, good for you.  
> until next week! :) x


	5. 5 ~ Wylan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nina reunites with Jesper and Wylan. They're happy, until something terrible occurs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> brief note- i hate this chapter. i rewrote it twice and i'm frustrated/still not happy with it, but it needed to be posted before i had a crisis so here we are! but it is still worth reading for important plot points and the beginnings of character development that I can't wait to run with.  
> also PLEASE NOTE: the final part of this chapter contains a precursor to particularly upsetting violence, which will be discussed in slightly more detail in the next chapter. i still believe it's in the scope of canon violence, but if you dislike talk of dead bodies, don't read the last part. (stop at "something terrible had happened.") at the top of the end notes I'll briefly describe the scene if anyone wants to skip it.  
> anyway hope you enjoy!

“You’d think the Fire Fliers could wait to show themselves in Ketterdam when it isn’t the middle of winter,” Wylan complained to Jesper.

He laughed. “That’s not really how gangs work.”

"I know that,” said Wylan, buttoning up his coat. “But it would be nice.”

“It would,” Jesper agreed.

Kaz had sent them out to follow-up on the _Pathflight_ raid Anika led, an effort to sabotage the Razorgulls and ruin them financially. Wylan had never learned about the details; lately, he cared even less about gang politics than before. And besides, most of the information lay in the record books Kaz had carefully smuggled out, which Wylan couldn’t read anyway.

He tried to push down the bite of shame at that.

Anika had yet to report back to Kaz, who was currently on a job in the Warehouse District, about the success of the mission. But Wylan could imagine his expression; Kaz had never grown less prickly and stoic over the years, the opposite in fact, but there was always an excited air about him when there was money to be made. 

Wylan wondered what Kaz was out doing. He knew it must involve the Fire Fliers, but Kaz had been surprisingly secretive about the details. 

“You’re not bringing backup?” Anika had asked. “Boss, that’s not safe. Especially not with these Fire Fliers cropping up.”

“I’ll be alright,” said Kaz dismissively. He left it at that, departing from the Slat soon after. 

The frigid winter air was fierce and relentless, tearing at Wylan’s exposed skin like a thousand tiny knives. He was used to being inside, enjoying the warm safety of the house he and Jesper owned. This winter in Ketterdam had been long and bitterly cold; it was only the third in this city Wylan had had the pleasure of witnessing. 

Early on, Jesper and the other Dregs were prone to bouts of complaining about “the worst cold front Ketterdam had ever seen.” Even Kaz was affected by the chill; he snapped more often, and some of the newer Dregs lived in terror of him because of it. 

They were all just more on edge, even before the Fire Fliers came into the picture. Wylan himself felt the same way, and he knew Jesper shared that sentiment. Even now, Jesper was spinning one of his prized pearl revolvers in his grip. 

“You’re going to get us arrested if one of the _stadwatch_ sees that,” Wylan scolded gently.

Jesper shrugged, but he complied, tucking the gun back in his side holster. “That would make things more exciting. There’s nothing I love more than running from the law.”

Wylan gestured to himself. “Is that so?” he asked teasingly. 

Jesper’s grin was bright. “Absolutely.”

“I’m hurt,” said Wylan. Jesper nudged him, laughing lightly. He swung a careless arm around Wylan’s shoulders as they entered the Slat. 

Anika looked up when the door opened, standing up from her seat in one of the low chairs scattered across the common area. “I was expecting Kaz,” she frowned. “I’m afraid he’s been shot dead in an alley somewhere.

“I’m sure you’re much happier to see me instead,” said Jesper breezily. Anika snorted. “And I didn’t realize you cared so much about Kaz’s well-being. It’s sweet, really.”

“Man, shut the hell up,” Anika said, with a good-natured tone. “If Kaz is gone, I’m gonna have to run the Dregs. You think I wanna be stuck at a desk all day and night? I’ve never actually seen Brekker sleep.”

“He is legendary like that,” Jesper agreed. Then he seemed to grow more solemn. “You don’t think Kaz is actually dead, do you?”

“I’d assume not,” came Kaz’s voice. He stepped out of the shadows by the side entrance, the one that led into the adjacent alley.

Wylan jumped at the sudden appearance, automatically reaching for a weapon he didn’t actually have. “Saints!” Jesper shouted. Both he and Anika had their guns drawn. 

“Not funny,” said Anika, shaking her head. “Boss, you just got real close to death; there could be two bullets in your skull right now, and we’d have a mountain of problems you couldn’t buy or scheme your way out of.”

“It keeps you vigilant,” Kaz shrugged. 

“Vigilant,” Jesper scowled, putting his revolver away for the second time that night. “I didn’t even hear you come in. What, have you been taking notes from Inej?”

Kaz’s jaw clenched. “No,” he said in a low voice. “No, I haven’t.”

Jesper’s eyes widened slightly. Wylan knew he’d made a mistake, and Anika clearly agreed. Wylan hadn’t seen Inej in a long time; as far as he knew, none of them had. But Kaz always seemed angry when Inej was mentioned, and there was some other underlying emotion there, one that Wylan might call sadness.

Wylan was sure communication was difficult when one person was a sailor. 

Before Jesper could try and backtrack, which would likely end poorly for all of them, Kaz asked “is Erry here? I have a job for him.”

There were footsteps from the floor above. Erry peered down over the railing at the top of the steps leading to the second floor. “What’s the job?” he asked, his voice high and young, as he hurried down the stairs to reach their little group.

“The Fire Fliers boss,” Kaz began, after glancing around in search of eavesdroppers. “His last name is Prenten. Search in the Warehouse District and report back with anything that might be useful about him.”

“Sure thing, boss.” Kaz nodded and turned away, Anika and Jesper following close behind. He could hear Jesper already asking for details, which Kaz seemed to be evading.

Wylan caught Erry by the sleeve before he could slip away for his assignment. “Hey, wait,” said Wylan. “Just be careful, alright? I have a bad feeling about this gang.”

“Come on, Wylan,” Erry groaned. “I can take care of myself. I’m not a kid.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Well, you’re barely not a kid,” Erry muttered back petulantly. “And I’ll be fine. I go out all the time!”

“I know that.” Wylan smiled at him. “Just be extra vigilant.” Maybe Kaz was onto something, always keeping them on their toes.

“Sure thing.” Erry disappeared with a little wave.

Wylan tried to shove down his slightly irrational worry. Ketterdam was a dangerous city; that was no secret. And Erry was right. He’d always been fine in the past. In fact, his ability to stay hidden made him safer than most.

Everything would be alright.

Wylan sank down into one of the armchairs, staring at the small heater in the corner. He’d always felt slightly awkward in the Slat, unsure of what to do with himself. Many of the Dregs drank and played cards near-constantly, two activities that Wylan had never particularly cared for. They also tended to clean their weapons more often than strictly necessary. If he was being honest with himself, Wylan hated guns. Sometimes he carried a small blade or two with him, but that was all.

He and Jesper had argued about his lack of protection on the streets many times before. Wylan found it difficult to be annoyed, because he knew Jesper was looking out for him, and greatly valued his safety; Wylan certainly shared that sentiment, for the both of them.

Plus, their little quarrels tended to dissolve when Jesper said something like “you cannot die on me, Wylan” or “I would be destroyed if anything happened to you.” It was much too romantic to hold any weight in a fight, and it also instantly rendered Wylan unable to be angry. 

He smiled to himself at the thought.

The front door creaked open, and a figure slipped into the room. It was fairly dark, Wylan guessed the hour was somewhere around midnight, so he couldn’t immediately tell who it was.

When she stepped into the light, brown hair and bright eyes familiar, Wylan’s jaw dropped. “I- Nina?” he gasped in disbelief.

Her smile was wide. “Wylan!”

He ran forward to hug her, gripping her shoulders tightly. Nina returned the strong grip, holding him close. One of her hands came up to ruffle his hair, and he pulled back to look at her. “I’ve missed you.”

Inej had been absent from Ketterdam for a long time, but Nina even longer. The last time Wylan saw her, there were tears falling from her watery eyes, and she departed Ketterdam on that small boat with Matthias’s corpse. 

Matthias. Wylan hadn’t thought about the Fjerdan in months. Nina’s expression was still joyous, and she seemed to be calm, but there was also a guarded weariness in her eyes that hadn’t always been there. 

“Kaz told me you were out on a job with Jesper,” said Nina.

Wylan frowned. “When did you see Kaz?”

“I came to the Slat earlier this evening, and he was the only one here,” she explained. “He was gathering intel in the Warehouse District, and I helped him. I got a Fire Flier drunk at this sweet little inn, and he revealed the name of his boss.”

“Prenten,” Wylan nodded. “Kaz just told us. He sent Erry to learn more about the man.”

“Then I’m glad I could be of use.” Nina peered around the room. “Is Jesper here as well?”

“Yeah, he should be with Kaz.” Wylan turned toward the office. “Hey, Jes!” he shouted. “Get in here!” Someone on the second floor yelled for him to be quiet in a particularly vulgar way. 

Jesper peeked his head out from the office door, staring down the hall. “Wylan, did something ha-” he cut himself off when he saw Nina, and then he was running forward, capturing her in an energetic hug. “Nina!” he greeted her, stepping back. “Light of my life. How have you been?”

“I’ve been well,” Nina beamed. “I’ve spent a lot of time at sea.”

“Where have you been traveling?” Jesper asked eagerly.

“I spent some time in Ravka,” Nina answered. “I had a brief trip to the Wandering Isle.” She hesitated. “And to Fjerda.”

Jesper straightened, the smile slipping off his face. Wylan’s heart clenched. He wished Nina some relief from the memories of Matthias, but based on the look in her eyes, she was still bearing that constant burden.

Neither of them knew what to say. When Nina smiled, it was flimsy. “It’s wonderful to see you both,” she said. “I’ve missed you. But I’m going to step outside for a moment.” She didn’t give them time to respond before she hurried out the door.

“Damn,” Jesper winced. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s alright,” Wylan tried to console. “You weren’t thinking.”

“Right.” Jesper frowned at the door, where Nina had disappeared. 

“We should give her some time,” said Wylan. He laid a gentle hand on Jesper’s shoulder. “Let’s go to bed. We can check on her in the morning.”

“Sure,” Jesper agreed. They started for the staircase, but Wylan stopped when he heard a loud clamor coming from the kitchen.

“What is that?” he asked. Someone was shouting, and then several more voices joined in. “It’s coming from the back entrance.” Wylan set off for the kitchen, which led to the exit in the back alley. Jesper followed close behind, a wary hand on one of his prized guns.

When Wylan pushed the door open, it was immediately clear that something terrible had happened.

Kaz was the one shouting, his face deathly pale with shock, directing rapid-fire questions at Dirix. The Dregs surrounding them were yelling as well, shouting nonsense and accusations; one in the corner was silently crying, another waving her knife around.

Wylan didn’t understand. Then he saw Keeg and Pim.

He saw the body they were holding, stretched between them, with hanging limbs and the pallor only death could bring.

Next Wylan saw the blood. There was so much blood. The body was so small. The blood was everywhere, coating Pim’s hands and sleeves, dripping onto the floor. How could that much blood fit in a body that small? How was this possible? What had happened?

“Jesper,” Wylan whispered. It was supposed to be a desperate cry, but his words were stuck behind the lump in his throat.

“Jesper,” he said again, louder this time. Jesper had been trying to understand the conversation that gradually escalated, eyes rapidly scanning all the desperate faces, but his gaze fell on Wylan the second he heard him call out.

Jesper followed Wylan’s stare, and when he realized what they were both seeing, his jaw dropped. The hand that had been on his gun, the one ready to fight, fell at his side.

Because there was no battle to fight here, not anymore. Erry had been murdered. The little boy was dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: brief description of the aforementioned violence- two of the Dregs are holding a body, and Wylan is shocked by the amount of blood. the briefly-mentioned character Erry, whom Wylan is very fond of, has been killed.  
> (man, that poor kid. i promise he was not killed for no reason. the fact that he did die, though, makes me slightly nervous about posting this chapter.)
> 
> left this on a cliffhanger oops  
> i was planning to also post inej's chapter (the next one) tonight and conclude part 1 all nice and pretty in one week, but it's night for me right now and I just feel pretty drained. so chapter 6 miiight come tomorrow but based on my history of sticking with an update schedule (i've done fairly well here though!) that is pretty unlikely  
> as i said above, i very much dislike this chapter, but i love jesper and wylan. their relationship is wonderful and they're very sweet (kanej owns most of my heart but this ship.. incredible. they love each other so much)
> 
> i made an soc tumblr! @shadowbusiness // i've posted one HC, and might do some more because this fandom could always use more content
> 
> also i feel like this whole fic has been just the slat, the streets and kaz's office lmfao- i promise, this plot is going somewhere, even if this part is a little bit slow. bear with me. the adventure picks up in chapter 7-8; a few people leave the city entirely! isn't that incredible. and then the angst spirals into many big moments that I'm so hyped for. (and keep in mind, there is underlying romance here! kanej is the slowest of burns but it will happen, and i already have the exact scene written, which i am elated to finally get to.)
> 
> one last thing- could someoneplease lmk, if they know, roughly what time period soc is set in? I'm struggling with what technology exists. i know it's pseudo-historical, and in my brain i think it's somewhere in the 19th century, but i genuinely have no idea (all those time periods tend to blend together in my mind so I am greatly confused)
> 
> one day i'll stop writing full novels in the end notes, but that day is not today
> 
> comments and kudos give me life :) if you liked it at all :))  
> (can you tell i crave validation ahaha)
> 
> bye for now! x


	6. 6 ~ Inej

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inej returns to Ketterdam and reunites with Nina. They face the horror the Fire Fliers have brought to the Dregs' doorstep. Inej learns something about Kaz, and a strange visitor appears in the early morning at the Slat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE once again there is mention of the gruesome murder of a young boy in this chapter. I will summarize the scene in the end notes. If you don't want to read the full details, skip ahead at "but as they entered the Slat together," and return at "they all were quiet." but please keep in mind that violence will progress from here, in a way that I do believe to be canon-typical, so if you're squeamish about this part tread carefully later on.
> 
> happy and safe reading!
> 
> (also this chapter? is 6.1K words?? no idea how that happened, and with multiple Inej chapters.. like I have one in part 3 that's already mostly written, and it's at ~10K words? like idk why this keeps happening with Inej chapters but I'll take it)

Inej perched on a third-story window ledge, looking out at Ketterdam, wondering how long she should stay.

Just a few short weeks previously, she’d docked at Ketterdam to check on the Barrel for a day, before returning to her ship. The Dregs had grown considerably in the months she’d been away, and it was incredible to watch how they thrived under Kaz’s leadership.

Inej hoped he was proud of that. She certainly couldn’t fail to be impressed. 

But it was easier to watch the city activity like this, from afar, instead of interacting with the members of her old gang. She visited Kaz for the sake of practicality- they exchanged information and, occasionally, shared stories of their adventures. Kaz was the one who made this dream of hunting slavers immediately possible, so it only felt right to let him experience some of her travels secondhand. 

There was more to their sporadic meetings than that. At least, there was for her. But that was a feeling she kept tucked away in the back of her heart, rarely feeling bold enough to examine it.

Inej and Kaz had different priorities now, newer things to focus on. They grew up. Their ambitions got in the way of anything that could have been.

She used that reasoning to hold herself back when she saw Nina and Kaz approaching the Slat from further down the street.

Her heart swelled at the appearance of her friend. Inej hadn’t seen Nina since she departed Ketterdam so long ago. Nina walked beside Kaz, seemingly calm, but Inej could see that she was distracted, constantly glancing around at the sky and the shops they passed.

Kaz’s limp was pronounced, more so than she remembered. At such a late hour the streets were dark, so Inej had to wait for them to come closer before she could see that Kaz was not holding his cane. Both his and Nina’s clothes differed from what they usually wore; Inej wondered what they had been doing. 

She would find out soon enough, if she could work up the nerve to approach Kaz.

Inej watched as Kaz and Nina briefly exchanged words. Whatever they were saying wasn’t audible from where Inej crouched. Kaz glanced around the street, craning his neck to scan the surrounding rooftops. Soon he disappeared into the Slat. 

Nina lingered, closing her eyes for a moment, tilting her head up to inhale the night air. Her posture relaxed as she took a deep breath. After a few minutes she followed Kaz inside.

Almost as quickly as she entered the building, Nina rushed back out onto the street. Concerned, Inej watched as Nina scrubbed a hand over her face, seemingly needing a moment to compose herself.

Inej decided that was her opportunity. She dropped down onto a ledge below, using her momentum to reach for a drainpipe on her right, which she scaled with half a thought. Heartbeats later her feet touched the cobblestone road, and she was making her way toward Nina. 

“Oof!” Nina yelped as Inej barreled closer, throwing her arms around Nina. “What- Inej!” she cried. Whatever burden she’d been facing seemingly lifted. “I didn’t know you were here! Kaz told me you were at sea.”

Inej beamed, releasing Nina, stepping back so they could speak face to face. “My ship returned a few hours ago,” she explained. “It was time to come home.”

Was the Barrel a home to her? Inej glanced up at the Slat, three towering stories with windows of various sizes scattered across the walls. She’d lived here for years; surely Ketterdam had to be a home. 

“I’ve missed you so much!” said Nina, elated. “Oh, it’s been too long. Promise me we’ll see each other more often from now on.”

“Of course we will. I’ve missed you too, Nina. So much. What were you doing out with Kaz?” 

“I was gathering intel with Kaz,” said Nina. She yawned, stretching her arms up. “There’s a bit of a situation. Kaz can explain it to you later, if you want to know. But first we need to see if Jesper and Wylan are still here, so you can greet them.”

Inej smiled. Nina linked their arms. “Those two are involved in whatever this issue is as well?” she asked. 

“Sadly, yes,” Nina lamented. “We’re all back to the same old habits.” She began leading Inej toward the door.

“Wait a moment, Nina,” Inej said quietly, stopping them both. “Are you alright?” There was an air of sadness hovering around her, and Inej wanted to alleviate Nina’s pain however possible.

Inej didn’t yet dare say Matthias’s name.

“I think so,” Nina said carefully. “I will be, someday.” Then she pasted a small grin on her face. “Kaz smiled, by the way,” Nina told her with a shudder, changing the subject. “I thought I’d gone mad. Have you ever seen him smile, for real? I didn’t think Kaz Brekker knew how to feel happiness.”

“Once,” said Inej, failing to suppress her grin. 

Nina stared at her, dumbfounded. “Why?” she demanded. “When?”

Inej laughed. “At the Slat, years ago. He was talking about money.” 

Nina looked almost offended. “Of course,” she sighed. “Of course that’s why.” She pulled the door to the Slat open. “Come on. You can meet with Jesper and Wylan if you want, but then we need to go out for waffles and catch up on everything.”

Inej nodded, smiling, and closed the door behind her and Nina.

But as they entered the Slat together, Inej became instantly aware that something was terribly wrong.

She could hear shouting from the kitchen. With an alarmed look, Nina rushed toward the sound of the voices, Inej keeping pace with her.

The sight before them stunned Inej. 

There was a body on the floor- a boy, so young and small, his skin pallid. Inej didn’t recognize him, but there was an unmistakable crow tattoo on his forearm, the black ink violent in contrast with his skin.

And there was blood staining the floor, splattered on the shoes of surrounding Dregs. Keeg’s arms were practically coated in crimson. The sight of the body was abhorrent to Inej, but she forced herself to look, though her stomach turned at the sight.

The boy’s shirt was ripped open, hanging in blood-soaked tatters. Across his small torso was a shape formed from several bloody slashes. It looked like a bird of some sorts, Inej was horrified to realize.

It sent a brutal message. From whom Inej didn’t know, but the threat was clear.

Inej saw Jesper and Wylan standing together on the outskirts of the group. Wylan was folded into Jesper, face buried in his shoulder, hands shaking at his sides. She could see tears pouring down Wylan’s face, and the sinking feeling was now in her stomach as well as her heart.

Kaz stood in the center of the room, his face white, shouting at Dirix. “Where was he?” Kaz demanded, becoming increasingly more agitated. Dirix was clearly intimidated. “How did you find him?”

“In the back alley, boss!” Dirix cried. “Right by the door. They dumped ‘im there like trash, I seen it when I was walking by! All the blood was staining the debris. I ran to get Keeg and Pim. They brought him in here, already dead. Erry was already dead, boss, I swear by it.” 

“It’s a phoenix,” Anika said. She stood at Kaz’s right, her eyes wide with horror. “Cut right into the flesh. Kaz, they murdered him outright, and they want to claim responsibility.”

“That’s the Fire Fliers’ symbol, right?” Roeder asked, voice high and reedy with panic. “A phoenix? They did this to him?”

Kaz gave a tight nod. Murmurs spread through the crowd. Inej felt lost; at her side, Nina swallowed hard, her face pale. 

This new gang, the Fire Fliers, must be the situation Nina was referring to. Inej’s mind was racing, trying to put the pieces together, as Pim covered the boy’s corpse with a sheet.

“The Fire Fliers killed one of us. They carved their symbol into his chest. This means war!” Muzzen roared. Too many of the Dregs were nodding in agreement. Inej could sense an imminent disaster creeping in, if Kaz couldn’t keep everyone under control.

“We’re not going to war,” said Kaz, his tone full of forced calm. He spoke over the resounding protests. “Not yet. Not until I know what we’re up against. If we act now, we lose more of our own.”

The clamor died down at the mention of more death.

“But we need revenge,” Rotty piped up. “We can’t let the Fire Fliers think this is acceptable.”

Kaz stepped toward him, expression menacing. His cane thumped heavily against the wooden floor. “I told you we are going to wait,” he said through clenched teeth.

Rotty swallowed. He retreated back into the crowd with a nervous glance at Kaz.

“Alright,” Anika called. There was a softness in her tone that Kaz could never hope to match. Anika was fierce, a strong lieutenant, but she also brought comfort to the Dregs. Her dynamic with Kaz, the boss now, made them a much more capable pair than Kaz and Per Haskell had ever been. 

“Settle down, now,” Anika was saying. “Back to your rooms. We’ll sort this out, and tomorrow you all will receive your instructions.”

Kaz watched impassively as the Dregs filed out of the room. Soon only Kaz and Anika, Jesper and Wylan, Nina and Inej herself remained.

As well as the body. Blood seeped through the sheet covering the tiny figure. The boy was so small; Inej couldn’t bear to look.

They all were quiet. Death blanketed the room, heavy in their hearts, weighing down the silence surrounding them. “He’ll need a proper sendoff,” Nina murmured.

Wylan stepped forward. His face was flushed with anger and tears had dried on his face. “Erry shouldn’t need a sendoff at all!” he yelled.

Kaz stared at him. “Go wait in my office if you want to start something,” he said flatly. 

Wylan scoffed. After a moment he stormed down the hall, flinging the office door open so hard it slammed against the wall. Wylan glared at Kaz, waiting for him to follow. All Kaz did was stare back, a silent display of authority. His message was clear; Wylan needed to back off. 

With a huff Wylan stepped into the room, sinking down into one of the two chairs facing Kaz’s desk. Only then did Kaz retreat down the hall as well, his cane striking the floorboards with unnecessary force.

When the door closed behind Kaz, Inej followed immediately, swift and quiet as smoke. She hovered outside the door. If any of the others found her eavesdropping disrespectful, they said nothing.

Kaz, after all, had trained her to learn what was meant to be left secret. She’d been keeping tabs on him for years anyway.

“You sent Erry to get killed,” Wylan said, low and menacing in a way Inej had never heard from him. Wylan had always seemed more mild than the rest of them. He’d grown fiercer after the Ice Court and the confrontation with his father, but still he kept that shred of innocence, of hope.

Inej had never wished more for Ketterdam to let someone keep that spark.

“I sent him on a job,” Kaz corrected. “One that, in fact, was much less dangerous than anything I’ve asked of you.”

“Erry was a child,” Wylan snarled. “Thirteen years old! Whatever he discovered, whatever he saw the Fire Fliers doing… they mutilated him for it. Did you even look at the body, Kaz? They did not hesitate carving those marks. Imagine the pain of that, the terror.”

“If you’re not prepared to understand the risks of this job, Wylan, why are you here?” The retort sounded weak even to Inej. Something in Kaz’s voice had changed. “People are killed on these streets. Children die well before their time. It’s not fair, it’s not right, but that’s what happens. If you can’t handle that, I’ll sever your contract and you can be free of Ketterdam.”

“You’re a monster.” Inej heard Wylan stand up. “A child just died in your own gang, and you don’t give a damn. That’s cruel, Kaz.” The door slammed open as Wylan stormed out, blowing past Inej in the hall without even seeing her.

She waited a moment to approach Kaz. Inej wasn’t in the mood to get her head bitten off.

When she finally slipped into the office, Kaz was writing a letter at his desk, pushing the pen across the page forcefully. “Who was Erry?” Inej asked without preamble. “He joined the Dregs after I left.”

Kaz didn’t look up from his letter. “The new Spider,” he told her, jaw tightening.

She turned away from him, choosing to stare out at the dirty street instead. “You hired Erry to replace me.” Inej didn’t actually need him to confirm. It was obvious why Kaz had made the hire.

Kaz looked up, then, leveling her with a flat stare. “Of course that’s what I did. I don’t have a Wraith more than a quarter of the year.”

“You can’t blame me for that,” Inej snapped, caught off guard by an unexpected rush of anger. “May the Saints watch over Erry. I will pray for his peace. But I cannot be blamed for this job that led to his death.”

Inej expected a bitter retort. Instead Kaz sighed wearily, running an ungloved hand through his hair. She realized how exhausted he looked. “I never said I blamed you.” He held her gaze for a moment, then went back to the letter.

“Well,” Inej said, to break the tense silence. “I can step in for Erry, if you’d like. Until you find a suitable replacement.”

Kaz kept writing. “Maybe.”

“You- you don’t know?” Inej questioned. 

Kaz sighed again. “Why are you here, Inej?” he asked, instead of answering her. 

“I told you I wasn’t finished with Ketterdam.”

“There are hundreds of ports on the coasts of Fjerda, Ravka and Shu Han,” said Kaz. “Kerch has several outside of the city. You could get your supplies anywhere. You have no real reason to come back here.”

Inej shifted on the windowsill, folding her legs up. “My gang is here,” she reminded him gently. She had found a home in Ketterdam, and she would not let him forget that. 

Kaz was not appeased. “I wanted you to be free of this place.”

“My ship goes where I will it,” said Inej, raising her chin. “I have never been more free, Kaz. Ketterdam hasn’t been a cage to me for many years.” It was the truth. She still felt the dread that came with thoughts of the Menagerie and all her suffering, yes, but the familiar fear was duller now. It felt like moving on from her ghosts, finally. Her ship and the sea air gave Inej back a piece of herself- and some days she still felt haunted, but her newfound freedom made those days more bearable.

Kaz’s eyes were dark and distant. “Erry was found quickly,” said Kaz, shifting away from discussion of her travels. Same as all the past times Inej had returned to Ketterdam, he could never stay on that subject for long. “He departed from the Slat at the one bell chime. At quarter to three bells he was dumped in the alley, a phoenix carved into his chest.”

She shuddered at the reminder. “How well was he trained?” Inej asked. 

“Well enough. Nothing compared to you-” Inej couldn’t help the thrill of pride at that- “but skilled enough to report back unseen.”

There was a glint of something unrecognizable in his eyes. Inej understood, unnervingly, that it was concern. “You think I won’t come back alive if you send me after them,” she realized.

“Erry was better than Roeder,” Kaz muttered, not confirming her statement but not denying it either. “A quick study. He reminded me of you. He knew how to stay hidden, but they caught him with ease anyway.”

“You’ve never doubted me before.”

“I’m not doubting you now. I’ve always understood what we were up against. Right now I know too little about the Fire Fliers, Wraith.” 

“Which makes me going after them even more important. You can’t remain King of the Barrel if you don’t know what’s going on in Ketterdam, Kaz.”

His shoulders slumped. “I know. Wait until tomorrow at midnight. You’ll stay here until they lower their guard.”

“Alright,” Inej agreed. She did not have the heart to argue with him. 

Kaz nodded, shuffling his papers. Inej watched as he tucked them into a leather book, which he returned to the top desk drawer. A key slipped into his hand- she could not quite figure out where in the confines of his coat it had come from- which he used to secure the drawer. 

Inej wondered what was so important that Kaz needed it to be locked up. She would ask him another time.

Kaz stood slowly from the desk. He gathered his cane and gloves, sliding the black leather over his hands before he reached for the door handle. He hesitated. When Kaz turned around to stare down at her once more there was a strange look on his face. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. 

Inej said nothing, watching him, waiting for him to speak.

Kaz set his jaw. Straightened one of his gloves. “Tomorrow I’m holding a proper meeting on how to handle the Fire Fliers,” he told her. “Come if you’d like. Goodnight, Wraith.”

He disappeared through the door before Inej had the chance to ask him what he really wanted to say.

~--~

Inej decided not to follow Kaz. Wherever he was going to process everything, Erry’s death and Wylan’s rage, she wanted to leave him in solitude. Some things should be left alone, even by her, and Inej knew she shouldn’t be there to witness Kaz’s reaction. 

She still worried for him, though, an old habit she could never quell. There was always a chance someone would leave the Slat and never come back. And if the Fire Fliers could justify murdering children, she didn’t know what other horrors they might have waiting…

Inej shuddered. 

She made her way to the main room; now that Kaz had left, there was no reason for her to stay in the office. Jesper was slumped on one of the overstuffed, slightly dirty sofas, staring distantly at the far wall. A glass of liquor was held loosely in his hand, and though Jesper looked disheveled, Inej didn’t think he was actually drinking it.

“Where is Wylan?” she asked, coming to sit beside him.

Jesper exhaled heavily. His face was pinched with worry and fatigue. “In our room upstairs. Sleeping, I hope. He was a mess, Inej. I’ve never seen him like that before.”

“Wylan will be alright,” Inej tried to soothe, hoping it was true. _Eventually_ , she thought. 

“He certainly isn’t right now.” Jesper stared at the glass in his hand, spinning it aimlessly. Soon he set it down on the table to his right. “I never thought I’d witness him screaming at Kaz like that. Wylan getting truly angry is something even I’ve barely seen.”

Inej nodded.

For a moment, Jesper hesitated. He seemed unsure, now, and strangely nervous. “Kaz probably didn’t tell you, but he saw one of the Fire Fliers weeks before Roeder found nearly a hundred of them meeting.”

Inej didn’t understand the significance. She was missing something about the entire situation. “What intel did he gather when he found the first member?”

“That’s the thing,” said Jesper. “He didn’t.”

“Kaz didn’t try to learn anything?” Inej frowned. “That’s not like him.”

“I thought the same thing,” said Jesper. “Wylan doesn’t know about that part, though. I figured it was best if he didn’t find out.”

“Agreed.” Inej paused. “I do understand why he’s angry with Kaz.”

“Me too. It’s just that I can’t really decide whether that anger is misplaced.”

Inej was facing the same struggle. “I can’t either,” she said. Because it was so unlike Kaz to not prioritize such a strange discovery, and now a young boy was dead. And Ketterdam was a dangerous city, but Erry was on the streets specifically under Kaz’s orders. Though Kaz had no way of knowing what the Fire Fliers would do to Erry. None of them did.

A child. They murdered a little boy before he even had the chance to live his life.

Inej silently sent out another prayer for Erry’s soul.

“I might talk to him again, when he comes back,” Inej told Jesper.

He nodded grimly. “That would help. I’ll go comfort Wylan. He needs that right now. But we need to get this issue under control, and Kaz can’t be distracted. His head needs to be on straight, especially now.”

“Understood,” said Inej. Once more, she agreed with Jesper. Neither of them had to like it, and the thought sat uncomfortably in the back of Inej’s mind; while Wylan could afford the time to grieve, Kaz couldn’t, not really. 

He was the King of the Barrel, now. The Dregs had amassed power considerably, but their notorious reputation could be lost as quickly as it was gained. 

Until now, Inej had never considered how terrible a thing that might be.

~--~

When Kaz returned to the Slat, he entered through the back and headed for his office immediately. Inej barely caught the door behind him as he cast aside his cane and sat at the desk. 

She wondered if he would have tried to lock her out, as more of a formality than anything; they could both pick almost any lock in an instant, though Inej supposed Kaz might have fashioned a lock on this door too complex for her to dismantle.

Kaz clearly didn’t want to talk to her. Inej spoke anyway. “Wylan said Erry’s death is meaningless to you. I don’t think that’s true,” she began.

If Kaz was upset that she’d overheard their conversation, he didn’t show it. 

“Of course it matters to me,” Kaz said, the words slightly uneven. “I’m furious. The Fire Fliers will pay for murdering him.”

“I know that.”

“The situation escalated well after I first saw one of the Fire Fliers,” Kaz said quickly, much to Inej’s surprise. After what Jesper told her, she didn’t think Kaz would admit to it. “I did nothing. I didn’t foresee one man being such a threat.”

It was almost as if he wanted her to justify that decision. Inej wasn’t sure she could. “Jesper told me that. Why wasn’t it something you investigated? In the past, you would have sent me out immediately.”

Kaz gestured helplessly, his frustration evident. “Maybe, just once, I wanted peace. A spare moment without the presence of a new gang hanging over my head, or some other threat.”

Inej stared at him in disbelief. “This life we chose- you chose- has no room for peace. You know that, Kaz. After all your years in Ketterdam, you should understand that feeling security leads to mistakes.”

“Damn you, Inej, I know!” Kaz yelled, slamming his hands down on the desk. “I was a fool. I made an irreparable decision that night at the dock, and I’ve paid for it everyday since.”

“No matter what happens to the Fire Fliers, it won’t bring Erry back.”

“I know that. But I can atone.”

Inej couldn’t help the way her jaw dropped. “Atone? I… I’ve never seen you feel guilt before. Not like this. Kaz, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” he snapped.

“No, you’re not. Talk to me. Tell me why this is bothering you so much.”

Kaz hesitated. Inej expected him to block her out, keeping his same old walls standing strong. If all their conversations reached dead ends like this, Inej would have to leave Ketterdam permanently, for her own sake.

How long could they keep this up? She and Kaz needed to stop this incessant game at some point, where she pushed, and he refused or shied away. It could only end in one of two ways- and if Kaz continued like this, Inej knew her path would lead away from him. For good this time.

“He’s just like my brother,” Kaz rasped, finally, breaking their silence. He pointedly looked away from her, refusing to make eye contact.

Inej hid her shock. “How so?” she asked carefully.

Kaz sighed. “Erry was only thirteen. And I swore years ago that I would never coddle the Dregs, or guarantee them safety and love. This gang is built on mutual trust and equal transactions. But Erry was different. Soft, naive in a way he could never quite snap out of. Roeder managed his training, but I watched the boy too. Erry threw himself into every project headfirst, eager to prove himself to the Dregs. To me.”

He paused. Inej waited. Kaz scrubbed a hand over his face. “And now the boy is dead because of me,” he continued. “I can’t help but feel that I failed him. The same way,” he swallowed hard, “the same way Jordie failed me.”

Oh, Kaz. “Every member of the Dregs knows the risks,” Inej began slowly, trying to find the right words. “We’ve all seen violence on these streets, witnessed death. I think it’s unfair to blame yourself for all those dangers, Kaz. Every single one of us knows where this life leads us. The only people to blame for Erry’s death are the Fire Fliers.”

“Alright, Inej,” Kaz said quietly, a concession to what she’d told him. It was the closest thing to a ‘thank you’ Inej had ever heard from Kaz. 

“You’re welcome,” she said, matching his tone. He gave her a look, to which Inej smirked, the weight of their bleak discussion lifting momentarily. 

Jordie, Inej mused, committing the name to memory. It sounded vaguely familiar. For a moment she struggled to place where she’d heard it, but then Inej realized- his fight with Jesper at the Geldrenner. She remembered that moment vividly; there was startling confusion written across Kaz’s face when he called Jesper by the wrong name, and something akin to terror. The look was something Inej never expected to see from him.

Besides that, she’d heard Kaz speak of his brother only once, and never directly by name. There was pain in Kaz’s voice when he said it, and a burning question was perched on the tip of Inej’s tongue: what happened? What did Pekka Rollins do? 

She wanted to know, so that she could be there for him. Better yet, Inej wanted Kaz to tell her, because that would be undeniable proof that he trusted her for something more than business, and thievery, and all their schemes. 

That seemed unlikely to happen.

Kaz leaned back in his chair. “Is that all?” he asked, brusque once more to hide from the vulnerability of their conversation. He still couldn’t look at her. 

“I suppose.” She would need to find a place to sleep for a few hours until sunrise. Inej assumed Kaz had given up her room to another member of the Dregs long ago, and she didn’t want to ask, held back by some strange fear that she’d forfeited her place in the Slat when she left Ketterdam and her contract was paid off.

“You can take my room for the night,” said Kaz, as if he’d been reading her mind. 

She blinked. “What?” Inej asked warily. 

“The bed is barely slept in.” He gestured to the door. Inej could see the bed wedged in the corner across from a small wardrobe, the bedcover dark and plain, tucked into the corners of the frame. “I have work to do anyway. Your old room belongs to someone else, now, and I don’t see the point of you returning to your ship.”

As she’d expected. Perhaps they both knew each other better than Inej thought.

The offer still set her slightly on edge, though. “Thank you,” she said. Surely there were other rooms available in the Slat, but the gesture was kind, so Inej would accept it.

Kaz nodded, picking up one of his pens, pushing his hair back as he leaned down to return to his work. Inej slipped through the attached bedroom door without another word, closing the door softly behind her.

If Inej hadn’t known the room belonged to Kaz, she would have thought it was vacant. The only signs of life were a pair of gloves and a half-full water basin on the bedside table. Dust accumulated in the corners of the room, and the small window on the side wall was covered by faded curtains.

It was barely enough to be considered a bedroom. But as the captain of _The Wraith_ Inej had normally occupied the quarters below deck, and sometimes she slept on the deck or even the watch post, so she was used to much more cramped sleeping conditions.

Inej unwound her braid, pulling the small pins from it, collecting them on the table in a small heap. She couldn’t change her clothes, all her belongings were on the ship excluding her daggers, so she crawled into bed without another thought.

Ketterdam seemed louder, now, and even more crowded than before. Months on end at sea made it impossible for Inej to feel any other way about the city. There was no empty air here, no stretch of unmarred waters that spanned for miles in every direction. 

Here it was an endless sea of people instead, filling the streets, piling into bars and gambling parlors and brothels. 

Here, it was easy to slip away. Here, Inej was reminded of the slave ships and the Menagerie. 

Inej squeezed her eyes shut, allowing herself a moment to breathe. She was a slave no longer; Heleen Van Houden, nor any other man or woman cruel enough to sell innocent girls, would ever trap her again. 

“I’m free,” Inej whispered to herself, quiet enough that Kaz wouldn’t hear. “I’m free.” So why did she feel like the same little girl forced to bend to the pleasures of perverted, filthy men?

Inej supposed it was about shame, a feeling that had stuck with her ever since she arrived in Kerch all those years ago. Shame over not having fought harder to escape her captors; shame over becoming a killer, and every horrific deed done that Inej thought she’d come to terms with.

Shame over the fact that her parents still didn’t know exactly what she became on these very streets. 

When Kaz first brought them to Ketterdam, Inej was overwhelmed by elation stronger than anything she’d ever felt before. She’d never expected to see her parents again. Her mother’s kind words, her father’s embrace, were mere dreams.

That reunion at the docks was truly the greatest moment of her life. 

Inej returned with them to Ravka soon after, and she stayed in her childhood home for six weeks with Mama and Papa, trying to make up for all the years they lost. It was such a brief time, really, in comparison to how long they were all separated. But still her parents almost ran out of time for all their stories, which they told with great detail, mainly because Inej was willing to tell so little of her own.

How would they react, if they knew their little Inej Ghafa became the Wraith of Ketterdam, one of the most feared people in all of Kerch? That she’d fashioned the acrobatic skills Papa lovingly taught her to scale buildings and climb incinerators and steal from rich merchers? He would be shocked. Mama might cry. Inej couldn’t bear to do that to them.

It was easy to sidestep the truth, at first. Her parents knew that Inej had been taken by slavers; too many other young Suli girls had been abducted from the region in exactly the same way. But instead of telling them she was sold to Heleen as a pleasure slave, Inej just called the woman her boss. And eventually Inej left her work under that boss, after being hired by the young man they’d met, Kaz Brekker. 

The lies came more easily, then, the words spilling out like seawater. Mama and Papa met Kaz that morning at the docks, so they had a face to put his name to. That made it easier for them to imagine Inej working at the small dining parlor Kaz owned, which was really a gambling house, a detail she carefully left out. And for one stretch of time, Inej was employed at a small bank, helping manage financials.

There was no talk of death or violence in her parents’ home, Inej made sure of it. Mama seemed more suspicious than her father; she sometimes got too close to asking questions Inej was terrified to answer.

Inej knew she had to leave, and soon. Reuniting with her parents was one facet of her dream, but the other was to hunt down the slavers that had destroyed her and countless others, so she departed from Ravka with a promise to return. 

And thus she was freed by the sea, but Ketterdam still kept her ensnared, drawing her back to its dark streets. Kaz was right. She had no real reason to return to the city. Inej would have left Kerch forever, but Nina and Jesper and Wylan and _Kaz_ were in Keterdam, with the other Dregs whom Inej found friendship with, even though she never formally joined their ranks. 

Ketterdam is a home, Inej reminded herself. Albeit a twisted one, full of dark secrets and despair, but a home nonetheless.

Inej felt her eyes drifting shut. The sun would be rising soon, and she could take the time to explore the city, but she was fatigued from all her travels.

Her last thought was of Wylan’s expression when Inej first entered the Slat to learn that Erry had been killed.

~--~

The sound of a frantic voice woke her.

Inej sat up immediately, frowning, trying to place which direction the sound came from. She crept from the bed slowly, gripping the knife kept under her pillow. She pulled the curtains aside; the sun had barely begun to creep in, so Inej guessed it was no later than the five bells chime. 

Who was speaking? It sounded like a woman, calling out softly. Her voice trembled and broke.

Inej would be less concerned if the sound was coming from outside the Slat; here, it seemed she was crying in the main room.

She silently pulled the door open, stepping into the office. Kaz was dozing in his chair, his hand lax on the desk, neck bent uncomfortably. 

“Hello?” the voice called. “Is anyone there?”

“Kaz,” Inej hissed. He stirred. “Kaz!” she whispered again, slightly louder this time. She rapped the hilt of her knife against the desk.

Kaz’s eyes shot open; he was reaching for the cane at his side before he was fully awake. His eyes fell on Inej immediately after he became more alert. She gestured at the door, and Kaz listened for a moment to the woman still crying out, then nodded for Inej to go look. As she crept through the door, she heard Kaz shifting behind her, standing up to eventually follow.

Inej kept to the side wall as she came closer to the main room. She could see the woman now, with dark hair and piercing blue eyes, silhouetted in the doorway.

It was what she expected. What Inej hadn’t accounted for was the blood coating the woman’s front.

Her white shirt was blotched with crimson, the color staining her pants and boots as well. It splashed against her neck. There were smears of blood on her face and in her hair.

So much bloodshed in one night, Inej thought. She sent a silent prayer to her Saints for peace.

“Please,” the woman cried out, the word a half-sob. Her shoulders trembled. “Please, help me.”

Inej stepped into the light. The woman startled, throwing her hands up, as if she expected Inej to rush forward and attack.

She put her hands down when Inej merely watched her, choking on another sob. “Help me, please,” the woman begged. “They are going to kill me. They want me dead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE Erry is murdered via a phoenix shape carved into his chest with a knife. his body was disposed of in a back alley.
> 
> i love inej and nina so much... for me their relationship is platonic (I would ship it though, if my heart wasn't set on Kanej) but they still just make me so so happy. also i know kaz "grinned like an idiot" in canon in that one scene, but i didn't think nina had a reason to remember that, hence the little "I've never seen him smile" exchange, which made me laugh (i do know (most of) the canon continuum!!).   
> something else I found amusing-  
> kaz: emotionally illiterate, refusing to acknowledge his love for Inej  
> inej: back in ketterdam for literally one hour  
> kaz: lol sleep in my bed  
> inej: w- what  
> that just made me laugh okayyy- I'm frustrated by my own slow burn but they will Get There Eventually!! and i know exactly how!!  
> but also i slipped in that little jordie-kaz kaz-erry parallel :( oops :(( kinda made myself sad with that one tbh  
> wylan exploding was an interesting character dynamic that i added in, because canon doesn't explore that aspect of his personality very much, but I feel like he has a lot to be angry about that he.. doesn't express necessarily. so yeah i thought that was an appropriate way for him to handle his grief, and of course segued into that jordie parallel  
> btw inej definitely didn't know jordie's name right? i mean she c o u l d have connected the dots from the hotel incident but i just clarified that explicitly here to set up for future plot points  
> and in that one part where he says "alright, inej" i had him actually say thank you at first but that just felt so wrong to me.. inej really wasn't kidding when she said kaz doesn't have manners in soc  
> also speaking of kanej- i would pay all my money and several limbs to see what kaz meeting the ghafas was like. that scene lives rent-free in my brain. i need to know exactly what happened when mr. kaz "is my tie straight" brekker had to have a civilized discussion with the parents of the girl he's in love with. like?? so i skimmed mentioning it, and other mentions of that moment will crop up later in this fic, but still i just want to knowww in canon terms  
> anyway thats the end of part 1! five parts to go! just this section is 23K words when I was expecting 16K max while outlining, so I'm thrilled right now. (the master document is at 63 pages in Word!)  
> chapter seven (part 2 chapter 1) will be coming later today because I'm excited and surprisingly motivated!! so look for that if you want. it's a jesper pov and will, of course, explain the woman covered in blood at the end there. the plot only thickens from here (these poor people just cannot catch a break)  
> one last thing- does anyone know where specifically in ravka the suli mainly are? like what region or smth? i've always been curious but couldn't find the answer, so if anyone wants to lmk i would appreciate it!!  
> that's all, hope you enjoyed!!


	7. Part 2 ~ Strength in Arms; 7 ~ Jesper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mysterious stranger brings troubling news. Inej and Jesper plan to embark on a journey they might not survive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> who forgot this fic existed? *raises hand*
> 
> real talk, life is basically hell and my motivation is just about at 0, so the chances of this fic going on hiatus are higher than not hahaha oops (bc my original outline was expected to be 200K freaking words, but i think i cut it down to 120K which is still.. a lot and life gets in the way)
> 
> onto part 2 of 6! this chapter is v lore and dialogue heavy, so if anyone has actually gotten this far just bear with me, it's all relevant to the bigger scheme i promise
> 
> anyway this is unedited bc i'm lazy so any mistakes are on me, though tbqh i don't particularly care :D sometimes you have to be wild and carefree right

Jesper hated feeling helpless.

Anika had given him and Wylan a small room on the second floor of the Slat to sleep in, which they’d been using for the past few nights. It was a small room, the narrow bed practically touching both the opposing side walls. 

He and Wylan practically slept on top of each other most nights, personal space made impossible on the small mattress, but that was something neither of them particularly minded. Now, though, Wylan was the only one asleep. He rested fitfully on the small bed, and Jesper was perched on the edge watching him.

Wylan had cried, and sobbed silently, and screamed a spectacular list of expletives on Kaz’s behalf when they reached the room. It’d taken him hours to calm down. Jesper practically had to manhandle him out of the kitchen; Wylan had been stuck, rooted to the floor, as if his feet were glued down by shock. 

“Wy,” Jesper told him carefully, when they were still in the kitchen. “Let’s go upstairs. You don’t need to see this.”

Wylan just stared down at the corpse. The clamor of arguments and accusations only grew around them. Jesper saw Nina and Inej join the crowd at some point, but the majority of his focus was dedicated to Wylan and Erry’s body on the floor. “Erry is dead,” Wylan repeated in a hoarse whisper.

Eventually Jesper was able to pull him away, and only in the safety of their shared room did Wylan break down. It destroyed Jesper to witness his grief, especially since Jesper knew there was nothing he could truly do. 

When Wylan fell into an uneasy sleep Jesper was able to slip away for a moment. He poured himself a drink, but he didn’t really feel like drinking it; he was merely giving his hands something to do. 

Then Inej approached him, and because of all the night’s chaos, he didn’t have a good chance to greet her properly. When she left to approach Kaz about the situation Jesper was almost relieved, because it gave him the chance to return to Wylan.

Now Jesper was still in their room, watching Wylan do his best to sleep. There was a minuscule window on the side wall, and Jesper could see from the beginnings of a sunrise that it was early morning. 

A soft knock on the door roused Jesper from his seat. Wylan stirred, some of his red-gold curls flopping into his face. Jesper brushed his hair back carefully and stood up, knees aching from the way his legs were folded. 

Inej was there when Jesper pulled the door open. “What is it?” he asked her.

“Something happened,” she whispered. Inej kept her voice soft, glancing around Jesper to see that Wylan was still asleep.

“What happened?” Jesper asked.

“There’s a woman downstairs covered in blood.”

“Of course there is,” Jesper said incredulously. “Because there hasn’t been enough death at the Slat in the past twelve hours.”

“It’s not her blood,” said Inej.

“Oh,” Jesper frowned. “Well, I feel like that’s even worse. Is she a murderer? Where did she come from?”

“We don’t know,” Inej replied. “Kaz is with her. She just sits there, shaking, and occasionally cries. He told me to gather everyone else, so that we can try to figure out what happened.”

“My first thought was that it could be a spy tactic,” Jesper said with a frown. “Does she have any tattooes? Fire Flier or otherwise?”

“None that I could see. Kaz was thinking the same thing as you, though. We’ll tread carefully. I need to wake Nina.”

“Does Wylan need to be there for this?” Jesper asked. “I’d hate to wake him.”

“I’m not sure,” said Inej, hesitant. “When Kaz told me to get everyone, I assumed he meant Wylan as well.”

“He might not be up to it,” Jesper said truthfully. “He took Erry’s death hard,”

“I know. It’s your choice, Jesper. Whatever you think is best for him.” 

“I’ll let him sleep,” Jesper decided, stepping into the hall with Inej. He let the door close softly behind him. 

“Good,” said Inej. “I already notified Anika. Nina and I will be down soon.”

“Aright,” Jesper nodded. Inej slid down the hall, disappearing into the shadows. He was about to head to the main room, but then came a noise from inside their room. “Jes?” he heard Wylan say.

Instantly Jesper was back by the bed. Wylan looked confused, barely awake, eyes still red-rimmed from all his tears. “Is something wrong?” he asked groggily.

“Just a woman covered in blood,” Jesper soothed, before he realized that wasn’t very reassuring to hear. 

Wylan stared at him, confused. “Blood?” he echoed, becoming more awake. “That doesn’t sound good. I’ll come with you.”

“Hey,” Jesper said. “You can try to sleep again, if you want.”

“No, it’s alright,” Wylan said, part of him clearly still upset, but also determined. “I’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” said Jesper, not quite convinced. He pulled Wylan up and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Let’s go.”

They made their way downstairs. Just as Inej had said, the strange woman’s shirt was caked with blood. She sat on one of the couches, Kaz resting beside her. There was a careful distance between them, and Jesper immediately noticed that Kaz had a knife grasped in his hand.

Jesper hoped things wouldn’t come to that. He couldn’t help but share the sentiment, though, briefly placing a hand on his gun to confirm it was there. 

The woman’s eyes were an icy blue, glazed over with unshed tears. Her stare was vacant, and she seemed to be unaware of how fervently Kaz was studying her. Based on his evident frustration, Jesper guessed Kaz hadn’t been able to get a word out of her; he wondered if the woman even spoke Kerch.

Just as Inej and Nina entered the room, the woman shot up from her seat on the cushion, beginning to pace in agitation. Tears leaked from her eyes. “Are you alright?” Nina asked in Kerch. She tried asking the question again in Shu, Kaelish and all the other languages she could speak. Still the woman had no response, staring blankly at the floorboards. 

“She was speaking Kerch when she came in,” Inej murmured to Nina. “I think she’s just in shock.”

Eventually the woman took a deep breath and began to speak, the words tumbling out in a frantic rush. “You have to help me,” she begged, her legs trembling, as if they would collapse under her at any moment. She spoke perfect Kerch, but her thick accent was different, more reminiscent of the rural South Kerch region.

Nina rushed toward her, guiding the woman into a chair. Jesper watched, his concern overwhelming his sense of distrust. Wylan hovered anxiously at his side, clearly unsure how to proceed.

Kaz stood up, leaning on his cane as he towered over the stranger’s trembling, curled-up figure. “Who are you?” he asked, his tone emotionless. 

“My name is Annaye,” she said, staring up at Kaz. Annaye didn’t seem to be afraid of him at all, as she watched him with steely blue eyes. 

“Let me rephrase,” said Kaz. Still he kept his words carefully blank. “If you don’t tell me why exactly you’re here, get out.”

“Kaz-” Wylan started, cutting himself off when Kaz held up a gloved hand to silence him. “Let the woman speak,” Kaz snapped. 

“They are after me,” Annaye rushed to explain. Her desperation hadn’t eased, but at least now she could actually speak. “I work at the Stronghold, in South Kerch. No one is supposed to survive that place. They’re going to kill me.”

Nina furrowed her brow. “What’s a Stronghold?” 

“I’ve never heard of it,” Jesper added. Inej nodded in agreement. 

Only Kaz seemed to understand. He scoffed openly. “The Stronghold is a myth. It’s a story told to scare naive little children at night.”

Annaye laughed at him. That alone revealed she had no idea who any of them were. “That’s what they’ve led you to believe, boy. The Stronghold is very real. I just escaped from there.”

“What is the Stronghold?” Nina asked again. 

“It’s a secret keep south of Belendt,” Kaz monotoned, “surrounded by a wall that cannot be climbed. Inside, the Kerch military has been rumored to test weapons, soldier training tactics and drugs on the victims they capture. According to the fools that believe it,” he added.

“Drugs? Even _jurda parem_?” Wylan asked. Jesper saw Nina shudder at the mention of the drug.

“Everything,” Annaye reaffirmed. “There are few Grisha inside their walls, but they employed several Kaelish scientists years ago. The government captures those with sharp minds and bright ideas, which they fashion into deadly weapons. The supply has been used as blackmail, in trade negotiations and wars. No one has ever found the location, nor confirmed that the military is responsible. But they are! I’ve seen it.”

“Some legend,” Nina said. She spoke quickly, perhaps trying to blow past the visceral reaction she had at the mention of _parem_. Jesper would check on her later. “It’s not one I’ve heard. Where the hell did you grow up?” she asked Kaz.

“That doesn’t matter,” Kaz scowled. “Annaye, you can’t come into my territory and expect me to believe your foolish tales. The Stronghold doesn’t exist.”

“It does,” Annaye argued fiercely. Now she appeared to be more calm, as if Kaz’s recognition of the Stronghold somehow soothed her. “At first we were just part of the patrol, me and the others. We took inventory and tracked new supplies admitted into the keep’s storage. But the men in charge became greedy. They began obsessing over the chemical makeup of the drugs they imported, and how they could be replicated or used for their pitiful wars.”

“So the Stronghold is mass-producing weapons and drugs?” Wylan asked. “That’s… terrifying. What are they doing with them?”

“Dark things,” Annaye said. She shuddered. “The scientists document reactions and combine new materials. And the experiments they conduct on innocents…” she shuddered again.

“So you wanted out,” Nina filled in.

“I couldn’t stay there,” Annaye agreed. “Once you enter the Stronghold, you do not leave, but I couldn’t stand the brutality. They tried to kill me, until I escaped.”

“And you just happened to turn up here,” Kaz said doubtfully. 

“Your lights were on,” Annaye implored. “At night, there are few other parts of this city still awake, and I have been in Ketterdam for many days. None of the others I’ve encountered feel safe. I need protection. Please.”

“Not until you tell me more,” Kaz decided. “Before I choose to protect you, I need to know everything you can give me about the Stronghold.”

“I will gladly do it,” said Annaye. “I can write anything for you, or explain it. Whatever you’d like. Please, protect me in exchange. I’ll do anything.”

Kaz stepped away, motioning for Anika to join him in the corner. They had a quick, murmured discussion. Kaz was frowning, but whatever argument Anika was making seemed to sway him. “We’ll do it,” said Kaz, more loudly. “Tell us everything. Start with the most dangerous project you know of.”

“ _Fantya veir_ ,” said Annaye immediately.

Nina frowned. “‘Ghost sight’ in Ravkan,” she translated. 

“ _Fantya_ is a hallucinogen,” Annaye continued. “The most powerful I’ve seen; only mildly addictive, but the hallucinations are so vivid they might as well be a reality to the victim.”

“Well, shit,” Anika said. Jesper wholeheartedly agreed.

“How does it compare to _jurda parem_?” Kaz asked her.

“Worse,” said Annaye. “Much, much worse. Not in terms of being lethal, of course. _Fantya_ cannot directly kill. But seventy percent of the tested victims committed suicide after the drug was administered. And Grisha are immune, though every human that comes into contact with _fantya_ is susceptible. The Kerch military could commit mass murder with this drug, if they produce enough of it. They have two forms of the _fantya_ \- a soluble powder and a clear liquid.”

Anika swore again. Wylan stared at Annaye with horror.

“We need to infiltrate the Stronghold,” Kaz announced. “I want my hands on a portion of this _fantya_. Annaye, are they selling it? Has it reached Ketterdam?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted.

“That doesn’t help me.”

“I’m sorry!” she cried. “My security clearance was of a lower tier. Some of what I know was revealed to me by accident. All I’m sure of is that the largest _fantya_ shipment yet was exported nine days ago.”

Kaz sighed. “Fine.”

“Forgive me for saying,” Nina interrupted. “But can we think about this, just for a moment? Getting involved with the Kerch military is, I think, the last thing any of us want to do. And you need to remember the last time we tried to break into a fortress. Kaz, we all nearly died in the Ice Court.”

“I agree,” said Wylan.

“This is different,” Kaz argued. “And more crucial. _Parem_ was a crisis that ended with minimal collateral damage. If a new, more dire drug war is going to break out, I need a stake in it. This isn’t about _kruge_. It’s about equipping the Dregs to survive a war.”

“And we can’t facilitate that if we don’t know more about the _fantya_ trade,” Anika agreed.

Inej seemed conflicted. “Will we all go to the Stronghold?” she asked. 

“We should,” said Jesper, at the same time Kaz said “No.” They turned to look at each other.

“Why not?” Jesper asked. “Like Nina said, we barely made it out of the Ice Court, and that was with a team of seven. Eight, if you count Kuwei Yul-Bo. Who do you suggest should go on this death mission?” If Kaz volunteered Wylan, Jesper genuinely believed he would get violent. 

“You and Inej,” Kaz said to him. “Keeg will travel with you.”

“Absolutely not,” said Wylan. “Let me go instead of Jesper.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Jesper disagreed immediately. “I’ll go with Inej. That’s fine.” He supported Kaz’s decision; his and Inej’s skills were best equipped for this task.

“Or Kaz can go in Jesper’s place,” Wylan snapped. “It’s dangerous, and you’re the boss, the one who’s pushing this mission in the first place.”

“I would go if I could,” Kaz said lowly, his shoulders tense. “But right now, the politics are a nightmare. I’m the boss. Things were different when I was Haskell’s lieutenant. And morale is too low after Erry’s death. The Dregs need to see that I can still lead them.”

Wylan clenched his fists at the mention of Erry.

“Alright, then,” said Anika. “Jesper, Inej and Keeg. The fewer people that go, the better. I can’t argue with it, unless any of you have complaints.”

“None,” Inej murmured. She seemed unsure before, but that had changed. Jesper could see that she was ready for this mission, whether out of obligation or loyalty to Kaz Jesper didn’t know.

“I’m going,” said Jesper, ignoring the way Wylan shook his head. 

“Wylan,” Kaz said, who was refusing to look at him. “Show Inej what you’ve been working on for the Spiders.”

“Fine,” Wylan muttered, leaving the room.

“What is the wall surrounding the Stronghold like, Annaye?” Kaz then asked, when Wylan was gone. “Give me details, even the irrelevant ones.”

“No one can climb it,” she reported. “It’s made of a specialized glossy stone mined in the Southern Colonies. The top portion of the wall slants outward and upward. Gravity makes it impossible to surmount- and if someone were to somehow survive the climb, they would be shot by the guards patrolling on the roof.”

Inej stared at Annaye incredulously. “I know I’m skilled,” she began, “but you’re overestimating my abilities, Kaz. I know I scaled the inside of an incinerator. But I can’t even attempt this if there are no handholds and gravity is against me.”

“I know that. Wait for Wylan. He has something to better your odds.”

“This is sounding more and more like a suicide mission,” Jesper mumbled. He enjoyed danger and the thrill that came with it to an extent, but the Stronghold sounded like a guaranteed way to get brutally murdered. 

“Your leader here is a fool for even attempting it,” Annaye added solemnly. 

“I can revoke your protection at any moment,” Kaz reminded her aggressively. Annaye sighed, leaning back in her chair. 

Wylan soon returned with a small wooden box clutched to his chest, which he handed to Inej. “What is this?” she asked. 

“It’s an adhesive,” Wylan explained quietly. Inej opened the box to reveal a smaller tin, which was filled with a translucent substance that glittered in the low light. “You can apply it to your gloves and shoes. I’ve been adjusting it to help you, Roeder and- and anyone else conquer more challenging climbs. If the wall protecting the Stronghold is as impenetrable as Annaye says, then this would help you.”

“Thank you, Wylan,” said Inej, her voice warm. “This is a valuable gift.”

Wylan nodded. “Of course.” He retreated back to Jesper’s side, which Jesper was grateful for. After Erry’s death and the news of what he and Inej would soon be doing, Jesper needed their closeness.

“Nina, find a room for Annaye,” said Kaz. “Take her to one of the back chambers behind the Crow Club. She’ll stay there.”

Annaye looked alarmed. “You are going to make me a whore?” she demanded, quickly standing up. There was nowhere for her to run, though. And Jesper pitied her, but if she tried Kaz would probably make use of that knife still in his hand.

“No,” Kaz said sourly, his voice like gravel, the expression on his face stormy. “I don’t do that. The Crow Club is a gambling parlor, nothing more. I own it. You’ll be safe there.”

Annaye still looked unconvinced. “You promise?” she asked, hesitating.

Kaz scraped out a laugh. “No, I don’t. But your odds will be better than anywhere else in Ketterdam.”

Nina’s smile was half reassuring. She held out a hand, which Annaye took carefully, letting Nina pull her to the door. “First we’ll wash the blood off of you,” said Nina, as she closed the door behind them.

Kaz made his way to the office, the rest of them following wordlessly. He unlocked the glass door of the cabinet in the corner, pulling out a map, which he unrolled on the desk after setting his cane aside.

“A dead mercher’s widow, Minerva Stohmler, prides herself on her horses.” Kaz placed the point of his pen on a building at the south end of the Ketterdam map, showing him and Inej where they were headed. “The address is twenty-eight Olverstraat. Stohmler lives right on the edge of the city, and the stable is located on the acres behind her estate. The coach should be parked next to where the horses are kept.”

“So we’ll take a canal boat through the West Stave to get there,” Inej said. 

Kaz nodded in agreement. “You leave at midnight. Stohmler’s guards rotate at eight bells. You’ll sneak in then to avoid detection.”

“This really does sound like a lot of fun,” Jesper said breezily. “Inej, do you want to go out on the town with me and Wylan? We have a good twelve hours before we prepare to go meet our deaths.”

Inej laughed. “That sounds fun,” she said. “I’ve missed Ketterdam, and I need to catch up with the two of you properly.”

“Great! We’ll make a day of it. Wylan and I need to make a brief stop back at the house, but we’ll meet you at the Crow Club after.”

“I’ll be there,” Inej said with a smile. Jesper grinned back, grabbing Wylan’s sleeve to tug him into the hallway. 

“We need to talk for a second,” said Jesper. 

Wylan looked at him worriedly. “Yes, we do. Is there actually something you need at the house?”

“No,” Jesper admitted. “I just wanted us to take a minute.”

“I agree.” Wylan linked their elbows. “Let’s walk.”

~--~

“I just… Jesper I’m terrified that you’re going to die down there,” Wylan whispered. 

They’d been wandering through Ketterdam together for the past hour, allowing themselves to get lost. Jesper was pretty sure they were somewhere in the middle of the Geldin District, but he couldn’t be sure. 

Jesper stopped walking, pulling Wylan out of the path of travel, so that they were both standing in the mouth of a surprisingly well-polished alley between two taverns. “I know,” was the only way Jesper could respond. “But we both know I have the best shot at this mission, being the greatest sharpshooter you’ve ever met.”

“That you are,” Wylan said with a chuckle. “Also, I have to ask- if things go sideways, are you prepared to use…” he trailed off, waving his hands around to get his point across without actually saying anything.

Grisha magic.

Jesper glanced around cautiously before he said “Yes. I am, I think.”

Was he prepared to use his skills as a Fabrikator? Jesper couldn’t be sure. His _zowa_ abilities were a part of him, but that part was very small, something he rarely considered. After all the years he’d known Wylan, they still had barely discussed it. Jesper didn’t even like thinking about it. 

Some things were best left unexplored, and perhaps he was better off learning how to fully control his powers, but Jesper just couldn’t bring himself to try.

Wylan could tell he didn’t want to talk about it, and changed the subject, for which Jesper was grateful. 

“We still have a few hours before you and Inej leave. I’m scared, Jes, but I believe in you. I hope you know that.”

“Of course I know that. Come here.” Wylan stepped forward, and Jesper pulled him even closer, so that their lips could brush. Jesper knew Wylan had to stand on his toes a little bit to kiss him properly, which he secretly loved.

Wylan deepened the kiss, fingers curling around the back of Jesper’s head. Jesper returned the kiss with even more passion, feeling wild and so very alive. 

He knew he had to survive the Stronghold, for Wylan, if not for himself and this city and everyone else he loved. 

A passerby whistled at them, both of them still refusing to break their embrace. Jesper kindly flipped the person off for ruining the moment, then returned his attention to kissing Wylan with everything he had.

“I’ll come back to you,” Jesper vowed against Wylan’s lips.

“You will,” said Wylan. “I know you will.”

This time, it sounded like he believed it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> annaye is fun! the little "you are going to make me a whore?" snippet was interesting to me bc it led me to create a whole irrelevant back story for her that will never be included in this plot. i don't even have a reason for her character to return
> 
> coming up with the name "fantya veir" was a painful process; also i realized today how similar my plot is to six of crows with a few big changes (drugs, other future events i can't reveal) and i almost threw my laptop out a window :))
> 
> next chapter brings one of my favorite kanej exchanges- my favorite line in this whole novel(? can you call a fanfiction a novel??) is much later but i still enjoy this particular one 
> 
> also jesper and wylan :') too wholesome. they deserve the world, truly
> 
> hope you enjoyed. if anyone is sticking w/ this fic, i appreciate you very much


	8. 8 ~ Inej

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inej and Jesper, along with Keeg, depart from the Stronghold. They can't help but wonder if they'll make it out alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been twenty days since I wrote/posted anything for this fic ummm wow ! o k a y, for real this time I think I'm ready to actually post regularly every week. I really needed a small hiatus, because I've gotten even more excited about this fic than before, and I think I can manage actual consistent updates now!! yay
> 
> special thanks to leigh bardugo for having such good world-building, because this chapter would not be a thing if she didn't include details about the wealthy owning horses and coaches in Ketterdam
> 
> this is overall unedited, but it's ok!!! bc i was so excited to post this chapter i just decided not to edit and came straight to ao3!!!!
> 
> hope you enjoy :)

Inej couldn’t help but wonder if she was mad for accepting this mission. 

Jesper and Wylan had left the Slat a few hours previously. Jesper promised her that the three of them could spend time in Ketterdam together before their departure for the Stronghold. She wouldn’t hold him to it; based on Wylan’s evident distress back at the Slat, Inej knew they needed time alone to reconcile his fears.

She could do that, for herself, alone. Inej wandered aimlessly across Ketterdam, gathering her thoughts . The winter day was frigid, but still large groups of people were crowding the roads and icy canals. 

Subconsciously she kept away from the Menagerie and all its adjacent streets. Inej still couldn’t bring herself to face that monstrous place once more. She’d barely seen it since all her adventures with Kuwei Yul-Bo and the Dregs, and Inej was content with keeping it that way. 

The shadow of those memories still crept over her, though. Inej pushed them back as best she could, trying to focus on the Stronghold and the task that would soon be at hand. 

Perhaps Kaz was leading her and Jesper straight to death. Inej had faith in both of them, and herself, but the odds here seemed more terrible than they ever had been.

Inej sighed. It was mid-afternoon now, leaving less than twelve hours before the midnight chime. Then she and Jesper would leave the city with Keeg, journeying south to the countryside.

The Elderclock sounded overhead. Inej counted the chimes- three bells. Nine hours exactly until she might be leaving Ketterdam for the last time.

It was strange, the way the counting hours seemed to bring them closer to an execution. Inej felt peculiarly calm despite the fact that she may very well die within the next day.

“Have faith,” Inej murmured to herself. Mentally she recited the names of her Saints, placing a protective hand on one of the many small blades concealed within her clothes. The familiar gesture brought her some comfort. 

Feeling more sound of mind, Inej slipped into a narrow side alley. Cloaked in shadows, she pressed against the wall, pulling her modified slippers from the inner pocket of her coat.

While overseas, Inej had brought her usual rubber-soled climbing shoes, even though she had no real use for them. It brought her comfort more than anything. Now, she was admittedly out of practice navigating Ketterdam’s slanted walls, all the skewed window sills and spires. Muscle memory kept her adequate, but Inej was mildly worried about the daunting climb of the Stronghold’s walls. 

Hopefully Wylan’s invention would protect her. Inej studied the shoes in her hands. She’d taken her backup pair of rubber climbing shoes and applied Wylan’s newly-designed adhesive to them. 

She tested it first, pressing the left shoe against the rough stone wall. The adhesive held. When Inej pulled it away, it took great force to fully separate the shoe.

Good. Inej had no doubts about Wylan and his skills, but this invention surpassed her expectations. 

That gave her hope- perhaps she might survive this climb after all. 

Satisfied, Inej swapped her typical rubber shoes for the modified ones. Then she began to climb. 

It was exhilarating. Inej loved her crew and the ship she’d been given, but it was so very small in comparison to the vast climbing space Ketterdam provided. Inej explored to her heart’s content, learning the feel of her new slippers. It was better than she imagined, Wylan’s design giving her the chance to explore parts of the city she never had before. 

There was a financial office on the edge of the canal a few blocks away from the Crow Club. Inej had attempted to climb to its highest rooftop in the past, but there weren’t enough footholds, so it was previously impossible. 

Now she made the climb with ease. With her shoes taken care of, Inej was able to use the few niches in the stone as handholds, pulling herself to the top. 

The view was more beautiful than she’d dreamed of. Ketterdam was by no means a beautiful city, especially not compared to her days in the Ravkan countryside- but there was still a charm to the city, despite its dirty streets. The Sun was beginning to set, golden light reflecting off the canal. From her vantage point Inej looked down at the boats passing through sparkling water. 

Inej stayed there until the Elderclock sounded, nine chimes ringing throughout the city. She begrudgingly returned to the ground, receiving several strange looks as she effortlessly scaled the wall back down to the street. She swapped her shoes once more, and headed back toward the Slat.

Inej could only hope this wouldn't be the last time she saw Ketterdam.

~--~

Unwilling to break her old habit, Inej snuck in through the attic window on the top floor of the Slat. Even though Kaz no longer slept there, the room now crowded with dusty boxes and old ledgers, Inej continued using the room to enter the Slat.

The routine reminded her of happier times. She found it comforting.

There was a note on the windowsill. Inej plucked it from the ledge, dust coating her fingertips as she unfolded the note.

_At the Crow Club_ the paper read, inked in Kaz’s unmistakable messy scrawl. _There’s information for you._

Inej huffed out a laugh. Of course Kaz knew she’d come here first. 

Tucking the note into her pocket, she climbed back through the window, making the brief trip north toward the Crow Club. She came through the front door, briefly surveying the crowded parlor and all its patrons. 

Dirix was stationed at the side wall. When their eyes met, he gestured to the back. Inej nodded her thanks, heading in the given direction. 

On the other side of the wall from the bar, there was a long hallway that led to several private gambling rooms. Kaz ordered the expansion for the sake of business ventures; Inej knew he was able to secure multiple successful deals with a few skilled card games and some hard liquor. 

The door to the first room was ajar. Inej slipped through the gap, closing it behind her. Annaye was there, and she startled, blinking up at Inej when she made her unexpected appearance. 

“Good,” Kaz said when he saw her. “Annaye drew a map of the path to the Stronghold.” He sat at the table across from Annaye. Nina and Wylan were seated to his left; Jesper paced back and forth by the far wall. Keeg stood in the corner, arms crossed against his chest. 

Inej approached the table, ignoring the way Annaye eyed her warily. The map the woman drew was small, but she’d sketched a clear path through the countryside that would lead them to the Stronghold, highlighting any helpful landmarks. 

“Is there anything else we’re missing?” Inej asked as she looked over the map, committing it to memory as best she could. 

“Annaye told me how I can get in after you make the climb,” Jesper said. “I can give you the details once we’re out of the city. Otherwise, I think we can leave soon. Kaz, you said we’d leave at midnight. That’s a few hours away, but we might as well get a head start.”

Kaz nodded his agreement. Inej noticed the worried frown on Wylan’s face; Nina seemed unsure as well. Perhaps it was because reality set in- she and Jesper would actually be leaving very soon. It was becoming much more real for Inej as well; dread slowly crept in along the edges of her thoughts. 

“So!” Jesper said brightly. He adjusted his side holster. “Keeg, will you hand me that bag?”

There was a large brown sack at Keeg’s feet, which he passed over dutifully. Jesper set it down on the table with a clunk. He pulled out several firearms of various sizes, setting them down on the table individually.

Annaye’s eyes were wide as saucers. Nina watched incredulously as his pile of guns grew. “Jes, are you sure you need all those?” Inej asked, trying to keep a straight face. 

Jesper hesitated. Then he motioned to Keeg. “You’re right. Hand me that other bag, Keeg, will you? I feel like this isn’t enough.”

Wylan opened his mouth, likely to try and talk Jesper down. “I need all the firepower possible,” Jesper spoke, interrupting before Wylan could say anything. “I’m fully prepared to survive this place.”

“You won’t,” Annaye murmured. She seemed to be almost sympathetic. Kaz glared at her, picking up the map. Annaye pursed her lips, watching as he took a pen and made a small mark on the page.

When Jesper was finished sorting through all his guns, stocking the ammo, he shouldered the bag. “Are we ready?” he asked.

“Nearly,” said Kaz, his voice low and abrasive. “Inej, a word?” 

She followed him out to the corridor, heading for another private room further down the hall. Kaz kept the door open for her, and she slid by, their arms almost touching. When the door was safely shut Kaz leaned against the mahogany card table placed in the center of the dim room, studying her carefully. There was a dark look in his eyes- something contemplative, something strange. Inej wondered what exactly he was thinking. 

“What is it?” she asked. 

Kaz held out the small map Annaye had roughly sketched. Inej accepted it, mindful not to brush her fingers against his own, even though his black gloves were on. 

“This X, here,” said Kaz, gesturing at the small mark he’d made, “is a property that connects to the main road leading towards the Stronghold.”

“What’s there?”

“That’s not important,” Kaz answered. Then he hesitated. “The Rietveld farm,” he corrected himself. “I trust the people there. It’s a place to hide, or seek shelter, if you and Jesper find yourselves in danger. If, perhaps, you’re pursued as you flee the Stronghold.”

“Johannus Rietveld,” Inej said, watching carefully for his reaction. “The alias you gave Jesper’s father at the Geldrenner Hotel.”

“I didn’t think you’d remember,” he murmured.

“That night was one of the most memorable in my life. I don’t think I ever will forget it,” Inej said with a small laugh. “I just didn’t know this man owned any actual property. I assumed it was all part of your ruse.”

“There is no other man,” Kaz admitted. He shifted, fingers flexing against the crow head of his cane. “I’m Johannus Rietveld, in a sense. The farm is owned by me.” He cleared his throat. “There’s a lake next to the main gate, and a small orchard. The landmarks are impossible to miss.”

“I see,” she said carefully. There was something odd about his tone, an undercurrent of tension she’d rarely heard from him. Then Inej asked “Why are you telling me this?”

“It’s a fail-safe. In case something goes dangerously wrong.” 

“This mission is inherently dangerous,” Inej pointed out. “How can you be sure Jesper and I will even have the chance to flee the Stronghold?”

“I don’t know. That’s not something I can guarantee. But I need you safe,” he confessed.

Inej blinked. “Ketterdam has never been safe. We’ve both known that from the start. The only safety the Barrel has to offer is death.”

“Maybe so,” Kaz conceded. “But if there’s even a single way for me to protect you, I’ll be damned if I don’t do my best to try.”

For a moment, Inej wasn’t sure how she could respond to that. “You’re also the one sending me on this death mission to begin with,” she decided to say, trying for a moment of humor to lighten the situation as best she could. 

He merely frowned. Kaz Brekker was many things, after all, but light of heart was not one of them. 

“You could refuse,” Kaz pointed out.

“No, I can’t. Anyone else attempting to scale this wall at the Stronghold would tumble to their death.”

“I understand. Just… be careful,” Kaz muttered. 

She’d never heard such a foreboding warning, not from him. Caution didn’t belong in Ketterdam, and the only thing the Bastard of the Barrel seemed to care about was self-preservation. And Inej knew Kaz had changed, but this here seemed too bold, too wrong. Safety was never a priority, not for him, not for any of the Dregs.

Kaz’s concern made Inej fear that death was approaching- that, perhaps, his scythe was hanging over all their heads. 

And all they could do was wait for the blade to fall.

~--~

“This already feels like a bad idea,” Jesper said conversationally. 

Night had settled fully across the skyline, cloaking their small canal boat in darkness. The boat itself had been stolen, Inej knew- when Per Haskell was still the boss, he’d commissioned a small fleet of modified boats to allow faster travel and lower fares. Now it was used only rarely, as Kaz tended to avoid the canals whenever possible. 

“I agree,” Keeg said absentmindedly from where he paddled at the front of the boat.

They traveled south along the West Stave in silence. In addition to Annaye’s sketch, Inej had Kaz’s map of Ketterdam folded in her hand. He’d marked the address of Minerva Stohmler on the paper, which they would need when departing the boat.

Eventually they reached a small alcove on the edge of the waterway. Keeg tied their boat, securing it, before he stepped up to the road. Inej and Jesper quickly followed.

Inej took the lead, pulling a bonelight from her pocket. She shook it slightly, illuminating the space around their feet with a sickly green light. Gesturing ahead, Inej turned the corner, leading them to Olverstraat.

The brass numbers on each door shone in the low light. Inej kept walking until they reached house twenty-eight at the end of the street. It was a large, impressive estate, certainly the type of home where an affluent widow would reside.

Inej extinguished her bonelight, approaching the tall wrought-iron gate in the front. She climbed it effortlessly, dropping down to the slick grass on the front lawn. Pulling a set of lockpicks from her coat, she dismantled the padlock. The gate swung open with a quiet shriek, the hinges well-oiled to the point of near silence. 

Jesper led the way this time, bringing Inej and Keeg around the side of Stohmler’s property. As they ventured further from the large house, the smell and sounds of a stable grew more apparent. 

Inej also heard voices up ahead. Looking carefully, she could see a guardhouse on the property. A group of men surrounded the small structure, talking and laughing jovially. 

“That must be the guard shift rotating,” Jesper whispered. 

Inej nodded. “They’re clearly not doing their job properly.”

“That works in our favor,” said Jesper. “We really would be in trouble if the rich hired half-decent _stadwatch_. Come on, this way. We’ll give them a wide berth to reach the stable. Inej, you’re prepared to cause a distraction, yes? Once I get the horses saddled it shouldn’t be an issue.”

“Of course.” They resumed walking, staying as far from the guardhouse as possible. When they reached the stable, the coach was parked next to the stable, just as Kaz had promised.

Keeg went straight to the coach, unlatching it and checking the wheel mechanics. Meanwhile, Jesper headed for the horses, running an affectionate hand through the mane of the closest one. 

Inej drew one of her knives, ready to cause a diversion if necessary. Her eyes flickered back and forth between the guardhouse and the work in the stable.

She saw a lone figure break away from the group of guards, heading in their direction. “Jesper,” Inej warned. Keeg already had the coach ready, and the first horse had already been securely harnessed. But Jesper was struggling to get the second horse to cooperate. It tossed its head, tail flicking in agitation.

“Jesper!” Inej said again. “Someone’s coming.”

He swore, trying to properly buckle the horse’s bridle, but it kept tossing its head. Eventually he was able to pull it over to the carriage.

“Hey!” the guard shouted. He held his lantern high. “Hey, who’s there? Smitty, that you?”

Jesper worked frantically, trying to secure the horse to its harness on the coach. One of the buckles slipped through his hands as the horse paced nervously. He swore.

“That’s not Smitty!” the guard shouted. “Hey, there’s intruders over here! Some little street rats broke in!” He broke off into a sprint, his lantern swinging as the guard came closer. 

Keeg was already in the carriage. “Any day now, Fahey!” he shouted, leaving the door open for Inej. Impatient, Jesper leapt onto the seat at the front, still trying to secure the horse properly. “I’m trying!” Jesper shouted.

The guard was too close. Steadying her aim, Inej flung her worst dagger, letting it collide with the lantern. Sparks flew, and the guard staggered back in surprise. She heard the lantern shatter against the ground.

“Got it!” Jesper crowed triumphantly. The guard stumbled to his feet, drawing his gun. There was no time for Inej to throw another knife, or retrieve the first one. All she could do was hurtle toward the coach, praying to the Saints that she wouldn’t be hit.

The bullet shattered the side of the carriage not an inch from Inej’s thigh.

As soon as she yanked the door shut Jesper spurred the horses into motion, snapping the reins. A hailstorm of bullets followed them as more of the guards aimed their weapons, trying to halt their escape.

To no avail- Inej watched the guards gather helplessly by the gate as the horses galloped into the street. Jesper whooped in exhilaration, spurring the horses once more. Inej couldn’t remember the last time she’d been in a coach like this, and certainly not traveling so fast. She leaned her head out the side window, thrilled by the way her hair came loose from its plait, whipping around her face.

Inej twisted backward in her seat, watching as the Ketterdam skyline faded away, leaving room for long, rolling country fields and a clear night sky. 

When Ketterdam was fully out of sight, Inej felt so spectacularly free.

~--~

Hours passed. The countryside looked the same, fields stretching for miles in both directions on either side of the road. Inej found that she was dozing off at times, and forced herself to stay awake, even though it was difficult to keep her eyes open.

Once they’d left Ketterdam completely behind, Jesper swapped seats with Keeg, leaving him to direct the horses at the front. Inej was curled up on her seat within the coach, and Jesper perched next to her with his long legs stretched out. 

“I forgot to give these to you earlier,” Jesper said suddenly. He looked as weary as Inej felt. “Wylan gave them to me when we arrived at the Crow Club.” He handed a pair of gloves to her.

Inej studied them. She recognized Wylan’s special adhesive coating the surface of the fabric immediately. But there was also a piece of chunky plastic sewn into the palm and fingertips of the fabric. “Extra grips,” she identified. “Wylan outdid himself with these.”

Jesper beamed. “He’ll be happy to hear it. He wanted to take every precaution to keep you safe.”

Inej tried them on, pulling the gloves down past her wrists. “They fit almost perfectly,” she said, flexing her fingers. “I feel like Kaz.”

Jesper snorted. “You can be the next Dirtyhands. Though I haven’t actually seen him wear the gloves much at all these days.”

“Nor have I,” she said carefully.

“You don’t- has he told you why he wears them?” Jesper asked, too casually.

Inej stared at him. “No, he hasn’t.” She understood Kaz’s aversion to touch, but not where it had come from. “Do… do you know?”

“No, he’s never said a word. I assumed he told you. I’ve always wondered about it, but I can’t bring myself to ask. It feels wrong. He’d tell me if it was important, I hope.”

“I think he would,” Inej murmured. She briefly entertained the thought of him explaining such a thing. But Kaz always kept her at a distance, and even if did trust her, he never had with that.

Jesper hummed, tilting his head back. Inej quieted, trying to distract herself with her thoughts.

After considerable time spent in silence, Jesper spoke up. Inej thought he’d fallen asleep. “You never actually got to explore with me and Wylan earlier,” he said to her, slightly guiltily.

“You have no reason to feel guilty,” Inej said immediately. “None at all, I promise. I could tell Wylan was afraid- you both needed a moment alone. And we’ll have plenty of time for more adventures in the future.”

“Will we?” Jesper asked quietly. He sounded so small. It was strange to hear that from Jesper, ever jovial and confident.

“Of course,” Inej said, forcing herself to believe it too. “If we were any less skilled, perhaps not. But I have faith.”

“I do too, I think. We just still know too little about the Stronghold, and the risks are so great. I can’t imagine dying without even the chance to say goodbye to everyone.”

“Wylan knows you’ll come back to him.” Inej wondered, momentarily, if Kaz knew the same for her.

“He does know that. I love him so much, Inej. It’s odd to think that I might never see him again. Which is why we have to hold onto hope, you know? I’m going to survive this damned place, because if I don’t make it back to Wylan and everyone else I’ll never forgive myself.”

Inej smiled. “I know exactly how you feel. We’ll survive this. Now tell me the plan, please. I can only imagine how many things might go wrong here.”

When Jesper chuckled, he sounded less afraid. “Oh, you can’t even imagine. Let me tell you, some of the intel Annaye shared will really make your head spin. I thought Kaz’s eyebrows were going to disappear into his hair.”

Inej laughed loudly, feeling some of the tension drain from her body. They would be alright; everything would. She and Jesper were going to survive this.

They had to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am so rarely impressed with myself and my writing, but i love that "i need you safe" "...the only safety the barrel has to offer is death" exchange SO MUCH ! idek why, it just made me so happy when I wrote it months ago. and I'm weirdly obsessed with the (semi-canon?) concept of kaz just randomly dropping these extremely romantic lines at inopportune moments that most people absolutely could not say with a straight face. i also added a few details about kaz's life in here, because I do that way too much- he's my favorite though, and his backstory is horrible but also so interesting, and I love writing all the ways Inej and Kaz notice each other in their respective chapters. :')  
> ALSO ok i wish i could say the next chapter is ready to post tonight, but it'll most likely come tomorrow...? it's a hefty chapter, and I've barely started writing it, but there are so many moments I'm super excited for (spolier alert, the dregs actually meet Prenten the Fire Fliers boss for the first time and i am *so* hyped for it.)  
> once again, I need to stop with these rants in the end notes. if anyone has gotten this far, thank you!! i hope you're enjoying- see you either tomorrow or Wednesday :)


	9. 9 ~ Kaz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaz tries to believe Inej and Jesper will return from the Stronghold. A Councilman is reported missing. As a blatant taunt, Prenten, leader of the Fire Fliers, shows up at the Crow Club to meet with Kaz.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my computer just shut down in the middle of me posting this :D so now I'm writing all my stupidly long notes over again :D you love to see it
> 
> anyway! a less distinguished summary of this chapter: Kaz has feelings and hates it! then things go from bad to worse.
> 
> i didn't expect this chapter to be 5.4K words but I'll take it. Mostly unedited, because I have about five minutes before my next class starts and I want to get this posted lmao oops
> 
> PLEASE NOTE: the final line of this chapter very *very* vaguely references the murder of characters so far in the background, they aren't even background characters. i just want to give people a heads up- more detailed discussions of murder will be included in multiple future chapters of this fic (yes that is where part of this plot is going). if reading about murder upsets you, this unfortunately might not be the fic for you. just keep that in mind, and read safely! :)
> 
> anyway I hope anyone reading this enjoys because I certainly had fun writing it.

Kaz’s worry made it nearly impossible for him to focus.

He tried to tell himself that all his fears were irrational. He’d spent hours with Annaye, learning almost everything she knew about the Stronghold. The map she drew of the path there clearly matched his own maps of South Kerch; she’d also drawn a diagram of the defense mechanisms surrounding the location, and how Inej could get Jesper in.

It was a risky plan, though, more bold even than the heist he’d led at the Ice Court. The painful lack of planning set Kaz on edge, but there was nothing to be done. To him, it was clear that the Fire Fliers knew too much. Nothing good would come from Kaz being misinformed. Inej and Jesper’s mission was important, the key to the rest of Kaz’s plans. He’d already begun playing out an endless number of scenarios that might transpire over the coming weeks or months. 

Yet still he worried. Kaz never expected to be concerned for anyone but himself. This apprehension was ridiculous, it was distracting, and utterly useless. In the past, he would have been completely willing to sacrifice two members of the Dregs for the sake of the gang’s welfare. That was a simple decision, a business tactic, merely weighing his wins and losses. 

Except Inej and Jesper weren’t just two members of the Dregs. It was different when it was their lives Kaz put on the line. 

Kaz rested his head in his hands, ignoring all the paperwork on his desk he was trying to sort through. He still kept wondering where Jesper and Inej were. If they had reached the Stronghold yet; if they’d already been captured or killed. 

He forced himself to stop thinking about it. There was nothing that could be done now. Sighing, he picked up his pen, pulling one of the papers closer to read.

He dropped it as soon as he saw the header. 

A few hours previously, Kaz had signed an agreement with a man named Farden. He was well-known amongst Ketterdam’s gangs as the manager of funeral arrangements for criminals, gang members and thieves- for the right price, of course. 

Farden was a retired _stadwatch_ guard that had been arrested for money laundering years ago. After his time in jail, he left the city guard and transferred his skills to the more illicit activities Ketterdam had to offer. 

Under Per Haskell, Farden’s services had been used sparingly. The man drove a hard bargain, going to great lengths to keep the _stadwatch_ away from the funeral sight. He was intimately aware of how the _stadwatch_ operated, and that knowledge came with a steep price. 

Here, all the _kruge_ Kaz had handed over was worth it. He’d signed the written agreement with Farden in order for Erry to receive a proper burial. Normally, that wouldn’t be something Kaz went to great lengths to prioritize. He’d witnessed the loss of countless Dregs over the years; it was a hazard of the job. More often than not, there was never enough money or time. 

But Erry was different. He was too young, his body too small, and when Kaz laid eyes on the corpse for the first time all he could think of was Jordie.

His brother never had the chance to receive a proper funeral. His corpse was lost to the dark, swirling waters of Fifth Harbor. Kaz feared he might regret it forever, the way he just left Jordie there without a burial or a goodbye.

It didn’t make sense to him. Erry and the boy he remembered Jordie to be looked nothing alike. But something in Kaz’s mind equated the two, setting them in the same horrific light. Just the thought of Erry’s corpse made Kaz’s stomach twist with dread.

That bothered him much more than he cared to admit. He’d been thinking about Jordie too much lately. All the memories had nearly lapsed away after he destroyed Pekka Rollins, driving the man who ruined his life from Ketterdam for good. That had since changed, which Kaz despised. He wanted to let go of the memories form Reaper’s Barge, but clearly that wasn’t something he could yet accomplish.

Suddenly he felt drained.

There was that same damning question, the one his mind kept forcing him to consider, turning it over relentlessly like a tarnished coin: is this all? Kaz burned Pekka Rollins and his gang to the ground; he’d built the Dregs up from nothingness. He climbed and fought his way to the top of the Barrel, and now he was the king.

All that meant nothing, if he still couldn’t manage to escape his past; if all his resources and connections couldn’t keep the Dregs safe. 

Kaz cast the file aside. He would worry about Erry later. Except there was something he still needed to consider- Kaz had told Inej. About Jordie and his own failure and this conflicting feeling he was trapped in.

Why had he? Kaz hated admitting it to himself, but he had missed Inej while she was at sea. It was a strange feeling, like an itch in the back of his mind. He wanted her closer than he ever had before. 

Opening up to Inej like that was a lapse in his judgement. She always messed with his head, derailing his thoughts and scrambling his inhibitions. Kaz trusted her with more than his safety, even though he didn’t want to.

It was all too much; Jordie and trust and Inej and the feeling that he was being scraped open.

And despite the painful vulnerability of it, Kaz knew that telling Inej about the Rietveld farm was the right call. There was a Grisha healer there that he’d agreed to hide in exchange for her services, as well as a few people he’d met in his childhood that came to the farm for work. 

They would help, if Jesper and Inej needed it. Kaz knew the farm could be a valuable asset to them. It felt strange and wrong to give Inej a part of himself like that, but Kaz needed to ensure her and Jesper’s safety, whatever personal cost be damned. He could evade any questions about it that might come about.

Kaz recognized this... this _thing_ between him and Inej for what it was- madness. He should have cut out that part of himself, but in all their years together and apart Kaz had never really been able to pull himself away from her. He likely never would; the childish part of him, the voice in his head that sounded sometimes like Jordie and sometimes like the boy Kaz used to be, held onto her. 

Kaz simply couldn’t afford his own safety when it came to Inej’s life.

He exhaled heavily. Ghezen, he needed a drink. A strong one.

There was a knock at the door. “Yes?” Kaz asked shortly. Normally he hated being bothered, but now he could use the distraction.

The office door creaked open, Roeder peeking into the room. “Hey there, boss,” he said slightly nervously. “There’s a little bit of an issue.”

“What news?” Kaz asked.

“I was eavesdropping on the local _stadwatch_ center. Councilman Darrick Taureau was just reported missing.”

Kaz stared at him. Taureau was the newest member of the Merchant Council. He’d claimed the chair after his father, the eldest of all the merchants, passed away. Briefly Kaz recalled all the details he had on the young man, trying to figure out a motive for kidnapping besides the obvious. He came up with nothing. “Missing,” Kaz repeated. “Tell me what happened.”

“His assistant came rushing in, shouting about how his boss had vanished. At first the head guard there was incredulous- he didn’t believe the guy. We all know the Councilmen have the best security details in Ketterdam. But the assistant forced them to listen. He said there were signs of a struggle- curtains torn up, the mirror in his bedchamber shattered. There was blood on some of the shards.”

“And this was at his home in the Financial District? Not in the Geldin District.”

“Yes, his usual home,” Roeder affirmed. “Should I go check it out?”

“No, I will,” said Kaz. Roeder looked unsure about the decision, but he wisely said nothing. 

“Send Pim to the Crow Club,” Kaz instructed. He stood gathering his cane and gloves. “I’ll meet him there, and he’ll come with me to Taureau’s home.” He stood, gathering his cane and gloves.

“You got it, boss.” Roeder disappeared without another word.

In the past, Kaz might have indeed sent Roeder to investigate, or perhaps Anika. But he was more than capable, and he wanted something to do besides paperwork. 

Kaz needed to maintain his authority and reputation. Both would be dismantled in an instant if he started getting soft.

~--~

Kaz and Pim traveled the short distance to the Financial District, navigating the crowded network of waterways. Pim directed their boat to the edge of the canal, tying it down, just before they reached the district’s bounds. There was an infamous _stadwatch_ checkpoint not a mile ahead, and it was avoided by all gang members at whatever cost. The guards there mainly checked for smuggled goods, but they were all too aware of the Exchange’s closeness to the Barrel; Kaz knew the guards were eager to pick up any criminals and street rats they could find.

Kaz set out for the Taureau residence, Pim following close behind. His presence wasn’t strictly necessary, but Kaz knew that the Financial District was teeming with guards. Very few people among all of Ketterdam’s gangs were foolish enough to try to navigate the district alone.

They reached the street where the Councilman resided after a few minutes of walking. Kaz had forgone his cane in order to remain inconspicuous, which he would certainly regret later. Now wasn’t the time, though, especially since he and Pim were getting closer to the place of the alleged kidnapping. 

Taureau’s home was teeming with _stadwatch_ and investigators. Kaz joined the crowd of bystanders watching from afar, listening carefully. trying to see what he might learn. 

“I just saw one of the detectives carrying the mirror shards away,” a woman whispered to her friend. “I could see the blood from here.”

“I heard the intruders broke a window,” the other woman said.

“The guards confirmed it was a kidnapping a few minutes ago,” another man added.

Kaz caught Pim’s eye, gesturing around the corner. They made their way to the back alley behind the neighborhood as carefully as possible. There were two guards below the window of Taureau’s second-floor bedroom, broken as the woman had said, examining the footprints and shattered glass that riddled the well-kept lawn. 

He stayed out of sight, unable to get closer without the _stadwatch_ noticing them. “Any word from the Merchant Council?” the first guard asked loudly. “If we don’t find this guy, they’re gonna have our heads.”

“I’ve heard nothing yet,” said the second guard. “Taureau could be anywhere by now. We’re more likely to find him dead than anything.”

Suddenly one of the _stadwatch_ looked up. He must have been at the perfect angle to see Pim and Kaz standing there. “Hey!” he roared. “You’re too damn close! Get back, this is a crime scene!”

“Let’s go,” Kaz murmured to Pim. They turned around and left quickly. Kaz wasn’t in the mood to be chased by guards, not today. He could figure out for himself who might have taken the Councilman.

When they arrived back in the Barrel, Kaz and Pim parted. Kaz set out for the Crow Club, planning to check the ledgers and perhaps pour himself a drink. Business had been booming lately, and Kaz wanted to keep it that way. Occasionally he was willing to make a spectacle of himself, playing with the other Dregs in a particularly high-stakes game, which he might indulge in today.

Though Kaz did it rarely, the stacks of _kruge_ that poured in were worth wasting time on a few cheap magic tricks. Kaz wanted the Crow Club to stand out from the rest of the gambling parlors Ketterdam had to offer, a venture in which he succeeded.

He didn’t expect to see Roeder and Wylan standing at the front door, their postures tense, as if they were guarding the entrance or preparing for a fight. Rotty approached them, and when Wylan said something, Rotty immediately whipped out his gun. 

Kaz walked more quickly at that, pulling a knife from his sleeve, resting the edge of the handle against his palm. “What the hell is going on here?” he demanded when he reached them. 

Roeder was trembling with fury. Wylan stood behind him, face white with anger.

Kaz raised a brow, staring at them both, waiting for someone to tell him what was going on. “Well?” he prompted, impatient.

“I-” Roeder cut himself off, slamming a fist against the wall. “Damn all the Saints. Prenten showed up right here. I got Pim- he’s guarding the guy, we closed him up in one of the private rooms right away. The Fire Fliers boss himself came right to our door, Kaz, and he wants to see you.”

~--~

“Absolutely not,” Anika said immediately when Roeder told her that Prenten was in the Crow Club, just a few rooms over.

As promised, Pim was standing in front of a door that led to one of the private gambling rooms at the very end of the back hall. Annaye was hidden in the one closest to the front, for which Kaz was grateful. Absolutely nothing good could come from the Fire Fliers, especially not the boss himself, finding out about the escapee from the Stronghold he was currently protecting. He wanted Annaye and Prenten as separate as possible.

Roeder had gone to fetch Anika, then followed the rest of them into a different back room. The two, along with Kaz and Wylan, were now arguing about the best plan for how to deal with Prenten.

“Need I remind you that you don’t have the authority to make that decision?” Kaz asked her.

“Yes, you’re the boss. Whatever,” Anika fired back. “But if you agree to meet with Prenten, in a private gambling parlor of all places, there will be absolutely nothing stopping him from taking out a gun and shooting you on sight.”

“That won’t happen. He wants something from me, and there are countless things more valuable than my corpse. I’ll play with him, see what I can learn, and figure out what he could possibly want from the Dregs.”

“He’s the boss of the gang that killed Erry,” Roeder argued. “Are you forgetting that? I have half a mind to go in there and shoot _him_ on sight.”

“Roeder, if you put us in the middle of a gang war, you won’t live to see it play out. Stay in line,” Kaz ordered, as aggressively as he could. “I am not going to start a war with the Fire Fliers. I told all of you that, but you still insist on losing your heads.”

“At least let me come in with you. Or Pim, in case things become violent.”

“Who came in with Prenten?” Kaz asked.

“No one,” Wylan said, still visibly furious. “The bastard walked right into the heart of our territory alone. I can’t even tell if he’s armed. Who gave him the right? Kaz, we can’t stand for this.”

“If Prenten went into that room alone, so will I,” Kaz said simply. His mind was racing.

Prenten felt safe enough in enemy territory to enter without backup- assuming, of course, that there was no one waiting in the shadows near the Crow Club. Kaz could send Roeder to check, but he assumed there would be no one waiting. It was an aggressive taunt, a blatant display of superiority on Prenten’s part. If Kaz faced the man with backup, while he sat alone, it would set the power dynamic in Prenten’s favor. Kaz needed to avoid that.

Wylan was correct, though. Why did Prenten think he had such authority? Entering enemy gang territory, under the right circumstances, was treason. Perhaps the Fire Fliers were pushing for a war, though for what reason Kaz couldn’t fathom.

Perhaps this situation was worse than anticipated, Kaz thought with unease.

He hadn’t even seen Prenten in person; Kaz only knew what Roeder had described, that the man was tall and well-built. A physical advantage over Kaz, then, but he was confident he could outmatch the man’s intellectual skills.

“Scheming face,” Wylan whispered to himself. He looked away when Kaz turned to stare at him.

Anika sighed. “Your mind’s made up, isn’t it,” she said glumly.

Kaz nodded. “It is. I’m going alone.”

Roeder clapped his hands together. “Well, it’s been spectacular knowing you, boss. Anika, let me know when I should formally announce to the Dregs that you’re the new boss.”

“Look at it this way,” Kaz said. Bizarrely, he almost wanted to laugh. “If Prenten does kill me, Roeder will have his chance to execute him in turn.”

Roeder snorted. “Fair enough,” he said. Anka chuckled. Wylan merely regarded Kaz with ill-concealed contempt.

Ignoring them all, Kaz schooled his features into a neutral look. With nothing else left to be done, he stepped into the hallway, motioned for Pim to step aside, and entered the room where Prenten was waiting.

~--~

Prenten was standing by the table when Kaz entered and closed the door behind him. 

He supposed it was intended to be an intimidation tactic. Roeder had said Prenten was tall, and he clearly was, almost unusually so. Pairing that with his bulky frame, Prenten truly did look like a bruiser. 

His hair was cropped and graying; he was likely no older than forty. There were no firearms at Prenten’s waist, so Kaz supposed he must have a handful of knives concealed in his coat. Though, perhaps his fists alone were a formidable weapon.

“Kaz Brekker,” said Prenten. “Dirtyhands. Bastard- no, King- of the Barrel.”

“Prenten,” was all he said in response.

“You recognize me.”

“I’d be a fool not to. I’ve heard the talk.”

“I’m sure you have,” Prenten said, seemingly amused. His speech was elegant, but each individual word Prenten spoke was stilted, awkward, as if he’d been trained to speak in some foreign tongue and the words were being placed directly into his mouth. 

The boss held out a hand to shake. Kaz kept his arms at his sides, wishing he had his cane to hold.

Prenten withdrew his hand and sat down at the table. Feeling wary, Kaz walked to the other side, sitting down as well.

“There are some things I want to discuss with you, if you will,” Prenten began, placing his hands palm-down on the table. “But first, I wanted to offer my condolences for the death of your young spy.” 

For a brief moment, Kaz’s mind went white with rage. “I didn’t expect an apology from you,” he found himself saying, “Seeing as it was your gang who murdered him in the first place.”

“Oh, I know. But he simply got too close! And we needed to send a message. I’m sure you understand.”

As fast as he could think, Kaz whipped out a knife and slammed it down into the tabletop, not an inch from Prenten’s ring finger. “By that logic, you shouldn’t be leaving this club alive,” he said fiercely. “Perhaps I’ll send the next blade into your chest or your skull.”

Much too calmly, Prenten levered the knife from the wood, studying the shiny blade. “You could do that,” he agreed, nodding. “But I believe we both understand that bosses are much more valuable than spies.”

Kaz hated that he agreed. According to the street laws in Ketterdam, Erry’s brutal murder justified little more than an antagonized relationship between the two gangs. If Kaz killed Prenten right here, war would come. And Kaz had no idea how great the Fire Fliers’ army was; if he wound up needing reinforcements, few would be willing to fight with him.

Prenten had also created another stalemate, Kaz realized. If the boss had approached the Slat, a privately-owned property of the Dregs, trespassing could have justified a skirmish. But the Crow Club was a public venue, and Prenten had technically been invited to the back room. There was no way for Kaz to skew the situation in a way that put the Fire Fliers in the wrong.

Interesting. Kaz hadn’t expected that much attention to detail. If he didn’t despise Prenten for what the Fire Fliers did to Erry, he would almost be impressed.

“I must say, I expected to see a mob of Dregs at my doorstep,” Prenten said when Kaz didn’t respond.

“I play the long game,” said Kaz. It wasn’t meant to be funny at all, but Prenten barked out a laugh, amused for a reason he didn’t understand.

Trying to bring the meeting back into his own realm of comfort, Kaz pulled a deck of cards from the inner slot of the table, setting it down. He briefly entertained the thought of using one of his cheat decks, but he wanted to gauge Prenten’s skills- if Kaz won, it would be natural. “We play Fisherman’s Ale,” he told Prenten. “I’ll deal.”

Prenten crossed his arms, leaning back slightly. “I think not,” he refused. “I’ve never heard of such a game.”

It was one of the most common in Ketterdam. If Prenten was foreign, where had he come from? “Odd, that you show up to my own gambling house without the faintest idea how to play cards.”

“Perhaps you need to be more open-minded. I know plenty of games, Kaz. May I call you that? I feel as if we know each other so well already.”

Kaz glared at him. That was an answer in itself. 

“Very well,” Prenten conceded. “I suppose you’re just not at that point yet. It’s alright, of course. I’m a patient man.” He sat up. “Why don’t we play Twice the Crown. You can still deal- I find the game much more comforting when my hand is the first set of cards I touch.”

Kaz picked up the deck, shuffling in silent agreement. He’d been no more than eleven years old when he last played Twice the Crown. Kaz sorted through the rules in his memory, trying to recall what dictated a win or loss. Each player received nine cards per hand, arranged in sets of three, where each card was overturned individually. If a king and queen stood together, the hand was won. 

There was something else. Kaz tried to think back, but the memories were tangled up amongst his grief and the magic of all the gambling halls along East Stave. Flipping an ace card was an automatic loss in any given hand. But what were the terms of receiving the ultimate win? Kaz couldn’t recall.

He would worry about that when it came to the final hand. For now, Kaz dealt out the cards, alternating until they each had nine in their pile. Kaz spread his out facedown in groups of three, watching Prenten out of the corner of his eye, ensuring the man wasn’t flipping over any of his cards to cheat.

“Go ahead,” Kaz told him. Prenten’s hand hovered between his first and second set, but then he switched to the third, flipping over a two of hearts.

And so the game began. 

Kaz counted the cards effortlessly, a skill he was glad Prenten didn’t know of. Prenten’s first two sets would yield nothing, but there was a king in his third. If his final card was a queen, he would win the first hand- and that set a tone Kaz didn’t like. 

Kaz flipped his last card. All nine of his cards gave him nothing, as expected. He clenched his teeth when Prenten overturned his final card, revealing a queen.

“So, I win the first,” Prenten said smugly. “I expected you to be more skilled.”

“Twice the Crown is more chance than mastery,” said Kaz, trying not to feel irritated. “I expected you’d know that, if you’re so partial to this game.”

“Tell me,” Prenten said, ignoring Kaz’s jab. “What have you heard about _fantya veir_?”

Kaz’s mind immediately went to Annaye, who was stationed not two rooms over in this very hall. But Pim was guarding her now that Kaz was watching Prenten, and the man had absolutely no reason to know that Annaye had escaped from the Stronghold, so she had to be safe. For now, at least.

But if that were the case, how did Prenten know about the _fantya_ at all? Kaz still felt like he was being kept in the dark, at least compared to what the Fire Fliers seemed to know, and he hated the feeling.

Kaz dealt out the second hand, weighing his words carefully. “As much as you know, I’d assume,” he said mildly. 

“Oh, I doubt that,” said Prenten.

“Anything you’d like to share?” Kaz asked. He sorted their cards, passing half to Prenten, and the second hand began. 

Prenten’s smile was blatantly condescending. Kaz had to refrain from reaching across the table and punching the man in the face, just to put him in his place.

That would bring war, Kaz reminded himself. He refused to initiate a skirmish with the Fire Fliers that would inevitably escalate out of control. 

“I think not. Information, I’ve found, is more valuable than gold.”

“But it can still be bought.” Prenten overturned an eight of clubs, and Kaz found that his next card was a queen.

“Are you trying to bribe me, Brekker?”

Kaz shrugged. “Not you, no. But I’m sure there are countless members of your gang that could be coaxed into spilling secrets with the right price.”

The first card in Prenten’s second set was a jack. “I suppose you’re right.”

They played the rest of the hand in silence, ending with a stalemate. Kaz reshuffled. This time, Prenten overturned an ace, allowing Kaz to win the hand.

They talked briefly of trade and other economic matters, the conversation interspersed with periods of silence. Prenten finally spoke again when they were approaching the final play. “I’ve heard the gossip on these streets,” he said conversationally. “You became a Barrel boss at the mere age of seventeen, no?”

“That’s right.” 

“How did you do it?”

“I took initiative,” Kaz said vaguely. He was hellbent on burning the Dime Lions to the ground. “I had passion.” There was no motive more powerful than vengeance. “And greed was my benefactor.” It had never failed him once. 

“I see.” Two of Prenten’s card sets yielded nothing. Kaz had a face card in all three. He’d been searching his memory for the complete set of rules throughout the game, and now he was able to fully grasp it.

While counting the cards, Kaz had forgotten to consider the two fool cards. That was the key to winning; regardless of all the other hands won or lost, if a fool card was overturned in the same set as another face, the whole game was won.

And Kaz had three chances to flip over a fool card and win, while Prenten only had one. There were few things Kaz enjoyed more than near-perfect odds when they were bent in his favor. 

He felt wickedly satisfied when his card was, indeed, a fool. Kaz won the game; the victory was trivial to everything but the unspoken rivalry they’d engaged in, which Kaz was content with.

Prenten seemed disgruntled. “Well played, Mister Brekker,” he said. “Well played.”

Kaz merely inclined his head. He swept up the deck, briefly shuffling it, before he placed the cards down in a neat pile. Standing, Kaz opened the door and gestured for Prenten to leave; he no longer cared for the man’s company. He’d already spent a few hours keeping up a false pretense of civility.

Prenten acquiesced, turning to face Kaz in the doorway. “Your company was a pleasure, Kaz Brekker,” he said. “I’m grateful for what I learned from this meeting.”

“I wish I could say the same,” Kaz replied. He had never looked at the frivolous etiquette employed by gentlemen in Ketterdam with anything but disdain.

Prenten huffed, his expression darkening, and turned to leave. As soon as he entered the hallway Pim stepped into place behind him, hovering threateningly close, to escort the boss outside. 

Kaz was certainly grateful to see Prenten leave. 

He returned to the original pirate gambling parlor. Roeder, Wylan and Anika were as he left them. “You’ll live to be lieutenant another day,” Roeder said to Anika when Kaz walked in.

Kaz raised a brow. “Indeed.”

“Welcome back,” Anika said. For a moment, it looked like she was about to raise an arm and clap him on the shoulder, but she wisely reconsidered.

“What did Prenten talk about with you?” Wylan asked. 

Kaz assumed he wanted to know what Prenten had said about Erry. “We discussed some of Kerch’s optimal goods.” He avoided mentioning _fantya_ directly to avoid the knowledge spreading to the rest of the Dregs. “I also offered Prenten my advice on the best trade routes in Ketterdam that offer the best connections- all lies, of course. And I told him I knew nothing about the whereabouts of Councilman Taureau. In fact, I didn’t even know he was missing.” More lies.

Anika nodded. “Good,” she said, evidently satisfied. “I knew you had it in you, boss.”

Kaz didn’t waste his time on a response. He stepped back into the hall, briefly wondering if he should check in with Annaye.

He decided not to. The woman didn’t need to be coddled. 

Out in the main lobby of the Crow Club, Kaz found something odd. He expected the parlor to be loud, it always was, jumbled with conversation, rambling drunkards, arguments about the cards, and orders being placed at the bar. But here the card games seemed to be mostly abandoned in favor of frantic gossip. People were leaving their chips at empty tables, talking more than playing. A large group had formed near the center, where a lone speaker seemed to have captivated an audience.

Kaz made his way as close to the front of the crowd as possible, ignoring the feeling of discomfort creeping over him at being shoulder-to-shoulder with so many people for the second time that day. There was a man seated on the edge of the table, speaking animatedly, waving his hands around.

“Just tell us what happened!” a woman shouted. Several of the other bystanders agreed. 

The man held up his hands in a placating gesture. “A’ight, a’ight, darling,” he said. “I was just up north at the Lid, workin’ on my dock like usual. And then this man comes barreling through, leaps clean off the dock! I try to stop him, but he’s thrashing in the wat’r like a catched fish, and I can’t pull him out!”

“What happened next?” the same woman asked. Kaz saw that Anika and Wylan had also joined the crowd, their bright hair standing out against the sea of hats and dark suits. They had near-identical expressions of confusion on their faces.

“He was gonna drown, y’know? But then them _stadwatch_ came running, shoved me aside, and pulled this guy out o’the water!” he continued, clearly enjoying his audience. “They put him in chains, carried him off. There was blood all down his shirt, in his hair and coating his hands. He was screaming…” the dockworker trailed off for a moment, eyes going unfocused, “...screamin’ all sorts of horrible things. And the guards shouted the charges against ‘im- then he was gone.”

“What was he charged for?” Kaz asked, his voice gravelly. It made people turn their heads. A few standing closest to him stepped back, and he couldn’t help but be grateful for the space.

Then the storyteller turned to look Kaz straight in the eyes, delivering a chilling answer, one he hadn’t expected to hear. “The man was wanted for murder. He killed his whole family, and then he just tried to run.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is now the second time I've created a random card game for this fic because I love Kaz playing cards and doing tricks and being Cool wayyy too much. Prenten is interesting to write because he's like this boldly arrogant, tall muscly man in my brain and the mental image makes me laugh because of a particular upcoming scene that's kind of funny. i just enjoyed that banter between them! the card game wasn't really about the cards, you know? it's all a Metaphor about power and shit  
> also kaz not buying all the gentlemanly shit prenten tries to pull at the end of their meeting was wayyy too funny to me. i just love kaz he's so entertaining
> 
> i wrote so much of this chapter today because I started adding more to my outline and got absolutely ecstatic!! the biggest angsty plot point thus far comes about in chapter 14, the last chapter of part 2, and I really really can't wait to get to it. part 3 is definitely my favorite part of this fic (and I love the name of it), so right now i feel *very* motivated to crank out chapters so I can get to the fun stuff!! and there's a kanej scene in part 4 that's gonna take me so long to get to, but it's gonna be the best scene in this whole fic i think so it's worth it- but haha I still just want to get to it faster! so I'm in no place to make promises, but a new chapter every week is gonna be the minimum, because I might be able post some of the shorter upcoming chapters every four or so days!  
> one last thing- an exception to that schedule miiight be chapter 11- based on the way the outline is set up, all of the adventures at the Stronghold are set to be in one chapter. and depending on how much detail I ultimately put, that one chapter might get close to uh.. 10K words. so yeah! besides that, I'm finally mentally ready to post regularly!
> 
> to anyone reading this- thanks and I hope you're enjoying the fic!!! it means a lot :) and I might have a new chapter tomorrow, but chapter 10 is a wylan POV which i really struggle with, so we'll see!


	10. 10 ~ Wylan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wylan and Kaz investigate the destruction a mass murderer left in his wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just wanted to say that I'm mildly impressed with myself for extending this chapter to 3.7K words when all I had to go off of was two bullet points in my outline
> 
> also PLEASE NOTE: as mentioned at the end of last chapter, this chapter contains fairly graphic descriptions of violent murder. if anyone wants to skip that, I'll briefly summarize it in the end notes. if you still want to read the rest of the chapter, skip starting where Wylan enters the house, and return at the line "Kaz and the guard." safe reading, everyone!

The city was in chaos, charged with a frantic energy Wylan had witnessed only once before.

Nina had created the illusion of a plague when Jan Van Eck- Wylan’s father- was still in Ketterdam. He could remember the sirens, ear-splitting like a woman’s heartbroken shriek, and the way they echoed through the rafters of the Church of Barter.

People had flooded the streets, a writhing mass of dread, everyone trying to escape the presence of Nina’s false plague. There had been crowds in the streets, buildings defaced and stores ransacked, and mass-panic so great the _stadwatch_ could only watch helplessly. 

The scene in front of Wylan was similar. He was still part of the crowd on the Crow Club’s main floor, Anika at his shoulder, watching as Kaz interrogated the young man telling the story of a mass murderer. But he could see through the window- some of the people listening to the storyteller’s theatrics had fled, spreading the word on the streets, creating new groups that shared the news- and the terror. 

It was odd. In Wylan’s mind, the violence in Ketterdam was always primarily confined to the Barrel, with all the gangs running rampant and killing each other. But even then, there had never been a mass murderer running about, at least not that Wylan could remember. 

As the story went, the man now being monitored by a whole platoon of _stadwatch_ had suddenly gone berserk, murdering nine people in one spree before trying to make his escape. Three of the victims were the wife and his own children, Wylan recalled with a twisting sense of dread. A son and a daughter, eight and thirteen years old, slaughtered by the man meant to protect them. The other six were guards and various staff. 

There was too much death. Too many young, innocent lives simply gone, snuffed out by death, vanishing from the world by wrongful murder. 

_That’s what Ketterdam is_ , a voice in Wylan’s head whispered. It sounded uncomfortably like his father. _The city kills, and maims, and destroys. You never should have left home. This world is dangerous and cruel, something you’ve never fit into._

Wylan shook his head, clenching his fists to try to rid himself of the thought. He had survived this long, the same going for most of the Dregs. Not Erry, of course, not Matthias or some of the others. And Inej and Jesper could be dead right now- Wylan had no idea.

He tried not to think about that. Remembering the loss of Erry brought a physical ache, but if Jesper didn’t come home alive Wylan knew he would be shattered irreparably. 

There would be no coming back from that.

Wylan exhaled slowly, trying to sort his thoughts, cataloguing the most important ones- Jan Van Eck was rotting in prison. Jesper was the greatest sharpshooter he’d ever known. He and Inej had the greatest possible odds of surviving the Stronghold; they were more than capable. Wylan blamed Kaz for Erry’s death, even if it was unfair.

Wylan simply couldn’t help it. Kaz had neglected to learn more about the Fire Fliers until it was too late, and then he’d sent Erry to learn what he couldn’t- and now Erry was dead after having been brutally murdered. 

He needed to stop thinking about it. Fixating on such thoughts would get him nowhere.

Wylan was pulled out of his stupor when Anika tapped him on the shoulder. “Hey,” she said, barely audible over the sound of the clamoring crowd around them. “Kaz wants to talk to us. Let’s go outside.”

He followed her out onto the street, dodging the frantic patrons still discussing the murder within the club. Kaz was waiting there, hands clasped on the crow head of his cane.

“I need to see the bodies,” Kaz said without preamble.

“I agree,” said Anika. “Who are you taking?” She took a brief moment to survey the street, watching out for any eavesdropping passerbys. 

“Wylan,” Kaz told her.

Wylan blinked. “No, thank you,” he said. “I’ve seen enough corpses in the past few days.”

Kaz’s eyes flashed. “I wasn’t asking.”

“And I wasn’t agreeing.” Perhaps Wylan should reconsider being so bold, especially with a man like Kaz. But he was still angry, and he wasn’t willing to let go of that anytime soon.

“You’re going,” was all Kaz said. His tone had become much, much colder. 

Anika looked like she was trying not to laugh. Wylan huffed. “Fine,” he acquiesced. There was little point in arguing with Kaz, after all, and the last thing Wylan wanted was to get evicted from the Dregs. He didn’t think Kaz would go that far, but there was always a chance. 

“When are we leaving?” Wylan asked, giving up. He wanted to get this over with if he was going to be forced to participate. 

“Now,” Kaz said. “It’s a short walk. I’ll explain your role before we arrive at the house.” 

“Alright,” Wylan agreed. 

And that was that. 

~—~

“You want me to do what?” Wylan demanded. 

He and Kaz headed north, closer to the Lid, the seayard region on the coast which fed into Fifth Harbor. Kaz leaned heavily on his cane, warily eyeing anyone who got too close to them on the street. 

Many people were clearly able to recognize Kaz, here, even though they’d left gang territory in the Barrel behind. Wylan was grateful for the wide berth; they didn’t need to be bothered. 

“You’ll pretend to be the son of the head guard,” Kaz said casually. “He watched over this murderer- Hein Delver- in his bedchamber while he slept. The guard’s name was Chane. You’re going to tell the _stadwatch_ that you’re his son. You want to see the house to say goodbye.” 

“I don’t even look that young,” Wylan grumbled. “Do I?” 

Kaz spared Wylan from hearing his answer to that. 

“After you get in, open the bedroom window. I want to take my own look around.” 

“Sure,” Wylan said. “We both know what happened last time you sent someone out to collect intel alone.” 

Kaz stopped walking at that, slamming his cane down as he turned to face Wylan. His eyes were dark and angry. “There’s nothing to be done for Erry now except his funeral arrangements.” 

“I know. I tracked down Farden, and he said you’d already set things up for the boy.” 

“Of course I did.” Kaz resumed walking. 

“I wasn’t sure that you would,” Wylan said truthfully.

Kaz’s steps faltered. “Well, I did.” His tone was terse enough that Wylan thought he should drop it. 

When they arrived at the Delver residence, the front of the home was bustling with activity. A small group of guards kept trying to back the public away from the crime scene, while an investigator made notes in his small journal. 

There were six bodies piled in the gutter, covered in black sheets. Wylan knew the body men would arrive soon. 

That left three bodies for Wylan to investigate. Kaz gave him a small nod, and he bypassed the investigator, approaching the elderly _stadwatch_ guard protecting the front door. 

“No one’s supposed to come in her, son,” the guard said when Wylan got close. “Where are your parents?”

Wylan sniffled, trying to look as pathetic as possible. “My dad’s in there,” he said woefully. “Chane? The head guard? He’s my father.” 

The man’s eyes widened. “You’re Chane’s kid?” he demanded. “Damn, I remembered you being older.” 

“I thought I’d have more time with him,” Wylan whispered, trying not to feel offended that the man believed he was so young. 

The guard’s expression softened. “Listen, kid. I really shouldn’t let you up there. Your, um… your dad’s body hasn’t been moved yet. I don’t think that’s something you want to see.” 

“Please? I just want to say goodbye.” 

The man sighed. “Alright, son. Come in here quickly, now. I don’t want to be getting in trouble.” 

“Thank you so much,” Wylan said, trying for a watery smile. As soon as he was inside, he let his grief-stricken, childish demeanor fade away. 

The front parlor was elegant, save for the shattered vase on the side table and the splatters of blood. Wylan peered into the living space, where a lone body was sprawled across the hardwood floor. It was clearly the wife, nightgown askew, her hair still braided for sleep.

Stuck in her chest cavity was the handle of a knife. 

Wylan didn’t want to get any closer, but he knew this was his best and only chance to provide something useful for the Dregs, so he approached despite his reservations. 

It was a messy kill, not that Wylan had much to compare it to. The blade had carved a deep gash in the woman’s chest, but there were additional slashes marring her face and her throat, as well as smaller marks on her limbs. 

Wylan forced himself to look away, heading up the stairs, looking for the master bedroom. He found it easily; there were brilliant scarlet smears of blood on the door panels and the surrounding frame. Trails of it led to the bedroom. 

Suddenly Wylan was grateful he wasn’t this man, Chane’s, real father. The sight in front of him was so gruesome it would easily splinter the mind of a child who’d lost his father. 

The guard’s chest was seemingly clawed open, brilliant white bone visible. Wylan almost gagged. There was so much blood, soaking the bed, dripping from aggressive, tattered wounds. 

Shards of glass were embedded in the man’s skin. Wylan supposed there was a struggle, and the mirror had been broken, then used as a weapon by Hein Delver. 

All this carnage didn’t suit the agenda of a man setting out to kill, though. Quite the opposite- these kills were frantic, disorganized, and clearly unplanned. 

It was as if Delver had suddenly lost his mind for no reason at all. 

Wylan walked over to the bedroom window, opening it carefully, trying to avoid putting his shoes in any of the blood staining the hardwood. He peered outside, looking down to the ground floor. Kaz waited there, and nodded to Wylan when their eyes met, reaching for a drainpipe to begin his ascent. 

He pulled away from the window, stepping into the bathroom so that Kaz had space to climb up into the bedchamber. The bath area was mostly untouched, a razor blade and a collection of products scattered on the edge of the sink. 

There was no blood, no signs of disaster, so Wylan retreated back to the bedroom. Kaz stood solemnly by the bed, eyes fixed on Chane’s broken form.

He stared at the body for a long time, eyes slightly blank, face strangely pale. Wylan was about to say something, but Kaz seemed to shake himself out of his stupor, eyes clearing. 

“Delver didn’t plan these murders,” he said quietly, his voice rough. 

“I thought the same,” Wylan murmured. “So why did he decide to kill all these people so suddenly? His wife and his own children?” 

Kaz said nothing. Perhaps there wasn’t an answer to give for such a damning question. 

“The wife is still in the parlor,” Wylan reported after a moment. “Killed with a knife that probably came from the kitchen. This isn’t natural, Kaz. Not that murder ever is, but this whole crime scene feels strange.” 

Kaz nodded. “Wait here,” he said. “I want to see what Hein Delver has in his office.”

“You think someone had a motive to frame him?” 

“I like to assume everyone in Ketterdam nurtures a grudge. There are a million reasons to destroy a man like Delver.” 

Wylan took the time to consider that for a moment. “Who do you hold a grudge against?” he decided to ask. 

Kaz chuckled, a scathing sound. “I harbor too many to count.” 

Wylan wondered, offhandedly, what the destruction of Kaz Brekker’s enemies looked like. That was a nightmare he’d leave to consider for another day. “Not everyone in Ketterdam thinks that way, though- in terms of blackmail and revenge. I don’t like to hold grudges against people.” Maybe such a mindset was foolish and dangerous in a city like Ketterdam, but Wylan found he didn’t care. 

Kaz stared at him. “Don’t you? In fact, you’re harboring one against me right now,” 

He was gone before Wylan could dream up a response to that. 

~—~ 

No more than fifteen minutes later, Kaz returned from the office with a bound leather folder tucked under his arm. 

“Are we ready to leave?” Wylan asked immediately. The stench of blood was becoming overwhelming, he’d studied the vanity and bedside table for any clues countless times, and the presence of the corpse in the room was disturbing. 

“One last thing,” Kaz told him. He stepped over to the bedside table, pulling out the bottom drawer. He peeled back the velvet sheet adorning the interior, revealing a false bottom. Pulling that aside as well, Kaz picked up a folded piece of paper, revealing a hastily-scrawled letter. 

Kaz scanned it for a moment, then tucked it into his coat. “Good,” he said. “Let’s go.” 

They didn’t get the chance. 

All at once, there were thundering footsteps in the hall. The door flew open to reveal the _stadwatch_ guard Wylan had conned at the door. He cocked his gun upon seeing Wylan and Kaz there, clearly guilty intruders. 

“You filthy liar!” he roared. “You aren’t Crane’s son, the real kid just showed up at the door. And who in hell are you?” came the demand, aimed at Kaz, who had drawn his own pistol. 

Kaz and the guard had their weapons ready to fire. Wylan was unarmed, but he couldn’t just stand by while Kaz got shot. So he reached for the first thing he could find, a heavy ornamental gold dish perched atop the dresser, and slammed it against the guard’s head with all his strength. 

The guard dropped like a stone, his eyes rolling back. Wylan was at his side in an instant, kneeling down to check the man’s pulse on the side of his neck. 

“Please don’t tell me I just killed him,” Wylan mumbled frantically to himself. “I can’t be a murderer, not here, not like this.”

Kaz scoffed. “He’s not dead.” Wylan was relieved to find he was right, the guard’s pulse slowed but present.

More footsteps sounded downstairs, accompanied by the frantic shouts of _stadwatch_ guards. “We really need to get out of here,” Wylan said.

Kaz nodded sharply in agreement, heading straight for the window. Wylan waited until he’d begun his descent back to the ground to climb out as well, barely clearing the window ledge before Delver’s bedroom door slammed open. 

Wylan expected the guards. But he wasn’t prepared for the bullet that ricocheted off the window pane, inches from where his head had just been.

Startled by the sound of the shot and breaking glass, Wylan lost his grip, stumbling and falling to the ground. He and Kaz both swore violently when Wylan landed the wrong way on his left hand. Pain radiated up to his shoulder, making the whole limb fuzzy. For a moment, all he could do was stare at his injured hand, the way his thumb was bent out of alignment.

Then Kaz hauled him up by the collar, pushing him forward into a run. “There’s no time, we need to go,” Kaz said urgently as he rushed forward, glancing back only once to make sure Wylan was following before he set out down a dark alley. 

Wylan ran as fast as he could, outpacing Kaz with his limp, fueled by sheer adrenaline. Over their heavy footsteps and the sound of his racing heart Wylan could hear the _stadwatch_ pursuing them. Another gunshot went off, but it missed them both, shrapnel flying against a brick wall.

They turned a corner, losing the guards for a moment. “In here,” Kaz hissed, his breath coming in pants. He gestured to a shop up ahead, which had its lights off. Wylan prayed that the door would be unlocked. Mercifully, when Kaz turned the handle they were able to duck inside, immediately crouching behind a row of tall shelves. 

The guards that had been pursuing them ran straight past the store.

Wylan released a heavy breath at that, his adrenaline already starting to fade away, soon getting replaced by the pain in his hand. “That was too close,” he said in an attempt to distract himself.

Kaz nodded, pushing his hair back as he leaned against the heavy shelf. They both took a moment to catch their breaths.

“What is this place?” Wylan asked, after breathing became easier. 

“And old Dregs safehouse,” said Kaz. “It belongs to the Liddies now, but they’ve mostly circulated it out of use.”

“Then we should probably leave,” Wylan said, feeling slightly alarmed.

Kaz heaved himself up. “If you insist.” 

After checking for any stray _stadwatch_ they headed down the street, walking in step. Wylan tried to ignore the throbbing in his left arm. “So,” hedged. “You won’t make me pretend to be someone’s son again, right?”

Kaz almost smiled. “I don’t make promises, nor do I keep them.” 

“Fair enough,” Wylan sighed. He wasn’t sure what else he’d expected.

“In the coming weeks, I might find it useful for you to play the son of a mercher. Acting from experience, of course.”

“No,” Wylan said immediately. His stomach twisted with dread. “Kaz, you've made me do a lot of things I didn’t want to do- but I’m drawing the line at that.” He would never be the son of a man like Jan Van Eck again. “Why would that even be necessary?”

“You haven’t heard?” Kaz asked boredly. “Councilman Darrick Taureau was reported missing earlier this morning.”

“Most of the gang members in Ketterdam wouldn’t dare to even approach the Financial District, or the government one, for anything more than a petty crime,” Wylan said, swallowing hard. “A kidnapping? And the government has done nothing?”

“They’ve opened a major investigation. Roeder has yet to give me any useful details.”

“Who do you think did it?”

“The Fire Fliers, surely. But Roeder has yet to give me proof of that as well.”

They were almost at the Slat. Wylan needed to get his hand bandaged, but after that he had another stop to make. 

It had been almost a week since Wylan had seen his mother. And amidst this news of murder sprees and kidnappings of Ketterdam’s elite, Wylan knew he needed to see her again, to make sure she was safe. “We’re done for the night?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Good.” Wylan started walking faster, not bothering to keep pace with Kaz; he was overwhelmed by the sudden fear that his mother might be in danger, and that he was too late.

~--~ 

“Hold still,” Yirn said for what was probably the hundredth time that evening.

Yirn was the Dregs’ designated healer, even though she wasn’t actually Grisha, merely well-trained in certain medicinal tonics and herbs. She’d sat Wylan on a stool in her first-floor room of the Slat the moment she saw the state his hand was in. After applying a balm to it, Yirn wrapped a white cloth around his wrist, the pressure making him wince in pain.

“Be still,” she repeated, more fiercely this time. Wylan whispered an apology, barely listening. He needed to get to the Van Eck mansion to check on his mother. 

Eventually Yirn finished up, much to Wylan’s relief. He mumbled a hasty thank you to her before he practically ran out into the street, waving down the first canal boat he could find.

The journey to the Financial District was painfully slow and astoundingly fast at the same time. Wylan barely thought about where he was going, guided solely by muscle memory, focused only on what he might find at his home.

When he reached the Van Eck home Wylan reached for his key, unlocking the front door and quickly stepping inside. He latched it once more, turning around to face the parlor. 

His stomach dropped immediately at the sight before him.

There was no blood on the floorboards, but someone had dropped a teacup, the porcelain shattered in the center of the room. Normally Wylan would think nothing of it, but after the destruction he’d witnessed in the Delver residence, he couldn’t be sure.

At least not until he found a body.

“Mother?” Wylan called, approaching the sitting area. No one was there, the room near-spotless per usual. “Mother, are you here?”

There was a rustling sound coming from the kitchen pantry. Perhaps Wylan should start carrying a knife or a gun, if things like this kept happening.

The door swung shut, and Wylan could only think about preparing for an attack before his mother appeared, standing calmly before him. 

“Oh,” he said, blinking in surprise. “I- hello, Mother. I didn’t realize you were the one…” he gestured to the closet. He knew Marya resented having to do housework.

She beamed, eyes only slightly vacant. This must be one of her more lucid days. “Hello, Wylan,” she said. “Oh, I dropped a teacup in the foyer, it was silly. I figured I should sweep it up.”

Wylan carefully took the broom and dustpan from her. “I can do that,” he said immediately, trying to keep his voice from shaking. “You don’t have to worry about it.”

He must not have hid his distress well, though, because she studied him with a worried frown. “Are you alright, my son?” she asked carefully.

Wylan smiled. “I’m alright. I just wanted to make sure you’re safe.”

“Of course I am. I’m always safe here, Wylan.” She cupped his cheek in her palm, skin warm against his own. Wylan closed his eyes and allowed himself a smile. 

Now he just needed Jesper to return home, safe in his arms, and everything in the world would be right once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> murder portion: there are two bodies left in the house, clearly killed in a disorganized fashion. these were not planned kills, but Wylan and Kaz have yet to figure out the real motive. After snooping in Hein's office, Kaz collects some files and a hidden letter, the details of which are not revealed
> 
> was this chapter rushed and awkward at times? yes. was it mostly unedited? yes. sometimes that's just the way it is :)  
> i don't remember much about marya from the books and I'm rushing through finishing/posting this chapter so I didn't bother to look. I just wanted a mildly wholesome ending to this chapter before all the drama adventure at the Stronghold in the next chapter, which might take a while to get published because it's long, extremely detailed, and my outline is currently way too sparse. eh, we'll see. i enjoyed the kaz/wylan banter & dynamic here even if it came across as a bit stilted (i like wylan but i don't connect to him as a character very much- that's probably why his chapters are so difficult to find content and inspiration for)
> 
> as always, if you're reading this, thank you very much for investing your time in this story- just want to reiterate that chapter 13 is where (imo) the plot starts to get really Good so hopefully some of you will stick around!  
> so see everyone whenever! :)


	11. 11 ~ Inej

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inej and Jesper reach the Stronghold, armed and ready despite all the obstacles and unfavorable odds before them. Inej makes an impossible climb and learns something strange about _fantya veir_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alternate chapter summary: inej basically becomes spiderman, and keeg is pretty much the sole reason this adventure through the Stronghold was even possible  
> in case anyone needs a recap: Annaye is the one that escaped from the Stronghold, a secret keep that tests drugs and weapons on its prisoners. Inej and Jesper are here to steal a hallucinogenic drug _fantya veir_ and learn more about it.  
> (9.6K words- longest chapter yet wahoo. and almost at 50K total :D)  
> anyway i hope you enjoy!  
>  **obligatory disclaimer:** i wrote about half of this chapter with a migraine after being awake for 40 hours. i am not 100% sure of what i wrote ahaha

“Inej,” came a voice, whispering near her ear. “Inej, wake up. I can see the mountains- we’re getting close to the Stronghold.”

It took her a moment to pull herself out of whatever strange dreamscape she’d been floating in. Inej sat up, rubbing at her eyes, trying to make herself feel more awake. Jesper was seated next to her in the carriage, jostling slightly with every bump in the dusty country road. 

The Stronghold. It all came flooding back to her, the realization of what Jesper had said slamming back into the front of her mind. Inej leaned out the side window of the carriage, staring up at the rough gray mountains that loomed above them. 

Annaye, the Stronghold spy, had prepared them for this. There was a mountain pass that led into the forest surrounding the compound. It was well hidden, the mountains separating the Stronghold from the Kerch countryside and any wandering farmers. 

“How far are we, Keeg?” she called to the front.

“An hour at most!” he yelled back above the noise of the horses leading the coach.

Satisfied, Inej sat back in her seat, turning to face Jesper. “Are you ready?” she asked to fill the silence between them.

Jesper shrugged a shoulder. “Ready? Not really, no. Though I’ve been trying to tell myself I’m excited.”

Inej hummed noncommittally at that, turning to look out at the countryside once more. Rolling hills of farmland stretched out toward the horizon, a tapestry of bright, open space, so different from the crooked walls and narrow streets of Ketterdam. South Kerch reminded her of home, of unpacking her family’s caravan on small plots of land in Ravka’s own countryside. 

“Do we need to go over the plan again?” Jesper asked.

“I don’t think so. I scale the wall, climb down the inside, open the gate for you, and then we’re in.” Jesper nodded sharply in agreement.

Annaye had described the wrought-iron gate to them, wide enough for incoming supply trucks and wagons to pass through. It was the single means to enter and exit the Stronghold from the ground level. And since Jesper couldn’t possibly follow Inej’s climb, she would let him in that way.

As for the remainder of their plans, Inej would leave those to fate and the gods. Both her and Jesper’s lives would soon be entirely out of their hands, transferred to the whims of the Stronghold’s guards and wherever they happened to be positioned at the time of arrival. 

It was a game of chance with the poorest odds Inej had ever witnessed. 

The rest of their journey transpired in silence, save for the rowdy tune Keeg was humming in the front of the coach. In no time at all, the mountains were before them. 

Keeg abruptly pulled the horses to a halt. Inej leaned forward to find out why he’d stopped, but then she realized: up ahead, there were four guards stationed at the narrow mountain pass, blocking their only path forward.

“Annaye told us nothing about a checkpoint here,” Inej murmured.

“You think it was a setup?” Jesper asked. “I can’t fathom how Annaye managed to escape the Stronghold itself, and the forest, and then bypassed these guards all alone.”

“Anyone have a plan here?” Keeg asked them. One of the guards motioned him forward, so Keeg directed the horses into a reluctant trot. 

“Annaye didn’t prepare us for this,” Inej answered. She pulled the shade over the leftmost window of the coach and motioned for Jesper to do the same on the other side.

Keeg swore under his breath. He halted the horses once more when they reached the guards. “You lost?” the first guard asked Keeg with a thick Kaelish accent. 

Inej glanced over at Jesper. His hands were folded in his lap, a pistol clenched in each palm. 

“Just coming in with a shipment,” Keeg said casually.

“With a vehicle like that? The hell happened, son?” the guard asked. One of the others chuckled.

“They sent me way up north toward the city,” Keeg explained. Inej was mildly impressed by the quick lie. “My wagon got jumped by some filthy little street rats. I had to steal this one to make it back here in time. Lost half my supplies.”

“That’s some real dedication. Bouso, Erni, search the coach!” he called to the other guards. “Take inventory. Sir, I’ll need to see your identification papers.”

“Papers,” Keeg said blankly. “Of course.” Inej heard rustling as he rooted around in his pockets. 

Then Keeg went still. A gun clicked. The shot went off just as the other guards slammed the coach doors open, revealing Inej and Jesper instead of the promised supplies. 

In a heartbeat, Inej had a knife drawn, embedding it in the guard's thigh. She went down with a startled cry. To her right, Jesper had knocked the second guard to the dirt, a gun aimed at his chest. Keeg had shot the third point blank, and the fourth guard was cowering to the side, eyes fixed on the second gun Jesper had drawn at his head.

“No one move,” Jesper said loudly. “You’re going to let us pass. And if you don’t, you’ll all be dead before you have the chance to regret it.”

Shakily, all the guards put their hands up in surrender, save for the one Keeg had shot. Cowards, Inej thought with pity, even though she was grateful for their weakness. They didn’t even attempt to put up a fight. She supposed whoever organized the Stronghold simply chose warm bodies from wherever possible that could die for a cause they didn’t believe in.

The thought made her sick. 

Keeg put his gun away and spurred the horses onward. Inej and Jesper walked behind the coach at first, keeping their weapons trained on the fallen guards. When they were far enough past the checkpoint they climbed back in, securing the doors and reopening the shades.

“That was fun,” Keeg said in a mild tone. The edge of the forest crept closer.

“Fun,” Jesper echoed with contempt. “I enjoy a good gunfight, Keeg, but I’ll be having a talk with Annaye about that when we return.”

“Perhaps she didn’t know the guards would be stationed there,” Inej said half-heartedly, not really believing it, but choosing to give Annaye the benefit of the doubt anyway.

Jesper snorted. “Maybe.”

Inej was too afraid to wonder what else Annaye might have omitted from her tales of the Stronghold.

The forest path soon narrowed, becoming overgrown with dense underwood. There were two deep gouges in the muddy road from the wheels of supply wagons that passed through. But the wheels of this coach were smaller, too fragile and narrow; the axles squeaked threateningly with every turn. 

“I don’t think this aristocrat’s carriage is fit for a path like this,” Jesper called to the front, seeming to follow Inej’s same train of thought. 

Keeg directed the horses off the path, coming to a stop in a small patch of open space. “If you two wanna walk the rest of the way, you’re welcome to it,” he said with a sweeping gesture.

“I hate to say it, but we should probably take you up on that offer,” Jesper said glumly.

“We’ll spend more of our strength,” Inej considered. “But I think that’s a better alternative than having the coach break.” If they were stranded here without a means back to Ketterdam, Inej couldn’t even consider what might happen.

“Agreed,” said Jesper. He and Inej climbed out of the coach on opposite sides, closing and latching the doors. Jesper shouldered his bag, handing Inej the smaller one he’d packed for her.

“Two smoke bombs and two flash grenades each,” Jesper confirmed, rifling through the contents of his pack. “If we make it out of this alive, I’ll propose to Wylan on the spot for being so good at demo. Without him, I’d be voluntarily walking into my own grave right about now.”

Inej smiled, shouldering her bag. “How romantic,” she teased. 

“Fahey, I don’t wanna be hearing that sappy shit,” Keeg complained. “Not while I’m delivering you both to death in a pretty little basket.”

“Jealous, Keeg?” Jesper asked, flashing him a bright smile. 

Keeg grunted. “You’d like that, huh.”

“Alright,” Inej said loudly over their banter. “Jesper, the sun is already setting. If we leave now, it’s possible we’ll be able to enter the Stronghold before midnight.” She hoped the patrol’s guard would be down at such a late hour. And, of course, Inej would be almost perfectly disguised in the night’s darkness.

“Right!” said Jesper. “Keeg, stay right here. Something tells me we won’t be lucky enough to have a peaceful exit from the compound.”

“I’d bet on those odds,” Keeg said. “Maybe I can coax the horses a little bit closer, but I can’t make any promises. I’ll be waiting for you.” For a moment he paused, then said “Stay alive, you two.”

“No mourners,” Inej said softly.

“No funerals,” Jesper murmured in agreement. 

And with that they disappeared into the foreboding trees, leaving Keeg, and their hope, and their safety behind.

~--~

“I can’t remember the last time I was in a forest like this,” Jesper said conversationally. He smacked a stray tree branch away from his face. 

Inej stepped over a root protruding from the soft earth. “Neither can I.” She’d been a little girl, her family setting up camp in a small clearing. Inej remembered the smell of earth, the feel of bark and the strange shadows leaves cast on the ground. 

They walked almost entirely in silence, more focused on keeping their footing. Inej occupied herself by running through a mental tally of their plans for the night- how they would get in, what they were looking for, and how they would, ideally, escape. 

There was a gap in the foliage overhead. Inej looked up to the darkening sky, and her breath caught as she came to a halt. Jesper glanced over at her and stopped as well, craning his neck.

The Stronghold, just as Annaye had described, was hidden by a surrounding wall greater than anything Inej had ever seen. The wall was a smooth, glistening onyx, stretching up impossibly high toward the skyline. Inej reminded herself, with no small amount of trepidation, that she would soon be climbing it with little more than a modified pair of slippers and gloves to keep her from tumbling to her death.

Inej had never been afraid of heights. She had begun tightrope walking, at such a young age, too eagerly to ever truly fear falling. But this wall, here, the one that protected the seemingly impenetrable Stronghold, was more daunting than any climb or high ropes performance she’d ever attempted before. 

“Saints,” Jesper said. He whistled. “We’re really here.” He forged ahead after a brief moment of hesitation, and Inej followed close behind.

As she’d expected, by the time they reached the base of the wall the moon was high in the night-blackened sky, its light dulled by low cloud cover. Inej sent a silent thank you for the additional concealing darkness.

Inej and Jesper came to rest at a corner of the wall, pressing themselves close to hide. She began pulling her gloves and shoes from the bag as Jesper peered to the side.

“I can see the gate,” he whispered. “It’s lit by low torch light. I can get that snuffed out. Guards are talking on the other side.”

“Good,” Inej said, exchanging her slippers. She tested the adhesive against the side of the wall; it held, as expected. If Wylan’s invention failed, their journey would have been meaningless. She needed to thank him when they returned to Ketterdam.

“Climb fast, Inej,” Jesper said, staring upward once more. “And be safe. Don’t fall.”

Inej smiled wryly. “I never fall,” she said. It was almost the truth.

Jesper chuckled as he watched her pull the gloves on. With no reason left to stall or avoid the journey ahead, Inej reached up, preparing herself. 

Without a single place of safety in sight, she began to climb.

~--~

Time became meaningless. 

Inej moved very carefully, refusing to look down, focusing only on her journey to the top of the wall. Each step took great effort, having to unstick her hands and feet every time she progressed further.

It was a taxing process. Inej had to stop and rest when her arms began to shake. Muscle memory had faithfully returned to her as always, but she was still regretfully out of practice from all those months spent at sea. If there had been time to ease herself back into the work of a Spider, she would have. But Kaz had them on a schedule, and they’d already spent nearly three days traveling to reach the Stronghold. Ketterdam could be rife with chaos at this very moment, and she and Jesper would never know it.

Inej exhaled heavily, closing her eyes to recenter herself and slow her breathing. She’d almost reached the halfway point. The top portion of the wall, which was angled outward, came closer with every move she made.

Climb, Inej, she told herself after wiping sweat from her eyes. She needed to move faster. Jesper was waiting below, and if she spent too long on this climb, he would risk being captured before Inej could reach him.

And Annaye had skirted on the edges of describing the torture that went on within the Stronghold, clearly disturbed by such proceedings. Inej refused to consider what might happen to Jesper if he was caught- especially if the scientists learned of his Grisha heritage. 

That pushed her to keep climbing. The wind was frigid, gusting past her with aggressive, unsteadying force, threatening to pull her hair loose from its tight braided coil. 

Inej counted each step she took. When she reached nineteen, she failed to secure her grip, and slid down several alarming feet.

Her breath caught in her throat, pulse hammering from the adrenaline rush. _You will not fall_ Inej yelled silently to herself. If she did, there would be only the cold, unforgiving earth to meet her. That would be the end.

Shaking her head, Inej resumed climbing with newfound strength. She would not fall. The thought drove her to work harder, to climb more carefully but also more quickly. There were too many people counting on her to fail.

Unable to stop trembling now, Inej reached the top of the wall’s vertical segment, sighing with relief. She paused for only a moment, trying to fight the fatigue washing over her. Keeping her feet firmly planted, Inej reached upward and slightly behind her with one palm, letting the adhesive stick to the angled surface at the top of the wall.

Inej braced herself. She shifted her weight quickly, securing her second hand, then both feet. Now she was essentially hanging upside-down, gravity tilting her head back toward the ground. 

The adhesive held. For how long, Inej wasn’t sure.

This was the more risky part. Inej had been able to catch herself before, but now she couldn’t afford that safety. Either she would finish the climb, or she would fall.

With that grim thought in mind, Inej began climbing once more. Her movements were slow and cautious, now. She was painfully aware that death waited below.

Gradually, with painstaking slowness, Inej reached the edge. She made it. Inej fought down a giddy, exhilarated laugh. She’d finished the climb, but that was only the first step of many to come before she and Jesper could leave the Stronghold behind. Now wasn’t the time for celebration; Inej could be properly excited later, 

There was a narrow opening on the angled edge of the wall, which Inej supposed would be used for a cannon, or possibly an archer in case of siege. She used the gap as a secure foothold, grateful for the rough edge she could balance against, and peered down over the edge of the wall. 

There was a guard not twenty feet ahead of Inej, their back turned to her. Beyond that, the Stronghold was visible over the railing of the wall’s inner walkway. The building was tall; Inej quickly marked nine stories that were distinguished by narrow windows with iron bars scattered across the walls.

Even if Inej knew nothing about the Stronghold, it was evident the complex was a prison, and a brutal one at that. The building itself looked bleak, and there was a sorrowful air surrounding the place that reeked of death. 

Inej carefully hoisted herself over the edge of the wall, grateful to have something solid underneath her. Watching the guard with unwavering focus, Inej dew a knife from the sheath on her forearm, gripping the blade instead of the handle. Thanks to the gloves Wylan had fashioned for her, the sharp blade didn’t cut her. 

She approached the guard, rushing forward when she got close. Inej caught a glimpse of his startled face. It was a young man with bright, eager eyes. He didn’t even have time to shout before Inej slammed the hilt of her dagger against his temple; he crumpled as easily as paper, his eyes rolling back.

Inej got to work immediately. It would have been safer to kill him, she knew, to ensure he wouldn’t wake and sound an alarm before Inej and Jesper could escape. But she refused to kill him in cold blood, especially if he was anything like the guards at the mountain checkpoint, who had so clearly been forced to protect the Stronghold against their will.

Inej bit the back of her left glove, yanking it off. With her bare hand, she detached the knife from her other glove, tossing it aside with a small clatter. Both gloves now removed, Inej tucked them back in her small bag, shaking out her wrists and wiping the sweat from her palms.

Next, she bent over the guard, beginning to unbutton his light grey uniform shirt. The violation felt wrong, discomfort creeping under Inej’s skin, but she pushed herself to keep going with little more than a silent apology to the patrolman. She pulled the shirt and pants over her own dark clothes, quickly buttoning both garments. It was easier for Inej to move unnoticed when she was dressed in black, but she hadn’t been named the Wraith for nothing; these clothes would do little to hold her back. 

Dragging the unconscious guard into the shadows, Inej did her best to keep him away from the view of any more patrolmen that passed by. Satisfied with her work, she pulled the adhesive gloves back on. 

Inej was willing to forgive Annaye for failing to mention the mountain pass checkpoint, if only because the woman offered extensive details about the guards’ shift rotations and the route they traveled. The interior of the Stronghold wall, Inej knew, formed five long ramps that spanned each side. All the guards started on the first floor, then spread out, essentially traveling in a large circle until they reached the top walkway on the edge of the wall and made their way back down once more.

All Inej had to do was avoid the guards, which she anticipated as being fairly easy. The patrol, of course, was confined to the ramps. But Inej could simply climb over the railings and drop down to each floor much more quickly than the guards could walk. 

Her plans went perfectly until Inej was making the descent from the second to the ground level. Her foot slipped again, the same misstep she’d taken while climbing the wall, and nearly tumbled straight into the path of an oncoming guard. Inej held her breath as she hung on the edge of the railing, tucking her feet up and straining to listen. She heard the guard’s gun click, but they barely hesitated before continuing their patrol.

Inej exhaled slowly, dropping down safely to the ground. Her feet touched a barren patch of barren grass. After a moment, she set out for the guarded supply gate, listening and watching for anyone that might discover her. She kept close to the wall, cloaking herself in shadows.

The two guards were chatting jovially. Inej thought she heard the clink of a liquor bottle. Daring to glance around the corner, she saw that the patrolmen were sitting in the grass, guns tossed to the side. The torchlight was fading fast, barely more than a little collection of embers. 

Inej couldn’t have asked for greater odds. Perhaps the Saints were here, watching over her tonight. 

Quick and silent as a shadow, Inej rushed the first guard. She pulled a cloth from her pocket as she moved, pressing it against the woman’s face. It was another gift courtesy of Wylan, the material dipped in a chemical that knocked the guard unconscious in an instant. 

By the time her drinking partner, a burly man covered in tattoos, noticed what had happened, Inej was behind him with a dagger pressed to his throat. “Stay quiet,” she warned him.

The man went very still.

“Unlock the gate,” she ordered, tapping a second dagger against the large iron key swinging from his belt. He slowly reached down, fingers closing around the key as directed, the back of his hand brushing against her blade. 

He tensed, which allowed Inej to anticipate the blow, but she still wasn’t swift enough to dodge the man’s elbow as it slammed back against her face. Inej stumbled back, trying to keep herself from crying out. The guard spun, one large hand coming up to grip her neck, the other knocking her dagger to the side.

There was blood pouring from her nose, dripping against the guard’s hand. Inej struggled, scratching at the back of his hand, trying to free herself. He pushed down harder, cutting off her ability to breathe. Spots danced in her vision; if Inej lost consciousness here, there was no telling what might happen to her.

In a last, desperate attempt, Inej shifted, aiming for his eyes instead of trying to free his hand. Her nails scrabbled against his face, and she jammed a finger into his eye socket, repulsed cold, mushy feel of it 

The guard howled, stumbling back in pain, which allowed Inej to breathe freely again. She coughed and sputtered as the man sprawled on the ground, clutching his injured face.

Inej reached down for the key on his belt, tugging it free. She slammed it into the lock on the gate, discarding the padlock to the side. The gate was heavy, Inej straining to lift it, but it barely budged.

“Jesper!” she called out. “Jesper, come here. I need your help.”

“Inej?” came his voice from the other side of the gate, a careful whisper in the dark.

“Come quickly,” she urged him. “I unlocked the gate, but I can’t get it open. Two guards are meant to operate it.”

She could barely see the outline of Jesper’s figure in the darkness on the other side of the gate. “What did you do with the guards?” he asked, bending down to get a grip on one of the gate bars.

Inej glanced back at the two patrolmen; the first had entirely succumbed to unconsciousness, and her partner’s eyes fluttered, blood still leaking from his injured eye. It was clear that he wouldn’t be moving anytime soon. “They’re taken care of,” she said. 

“Good.” Together they lifted the gate, making slow but sure progress, until it was fully raised. They both winced at the terrible, screeching metallic sound that echoed off the surrounding stone as the gate rose, but there were no guards that came running, at least not yet.

Jesper immediately went to the wounded guard’s side, delivering a clean punch to the man’s temple when he tried to protest. Just as Inej had done, Jesper made quick work of his patrol uniform, leaving him shivering on the ground in his underclothes. 

“Let’s go,” Jesper said. Then he turned to glance at her. “Saints, Inej, your face.”

She touched her nose, prodding lightly at the flesh swollen from being hit. Some of the blood had dried around her mouth, but Inej did her best to wipe it away. “I’m alright,” she said. 

Jesper leaned down, getting close to inspect the injury for himself. He placed a cautious hand on her shoulder. “There’s simply a lot of blood,” Inej told him. “It’s nothing, Jesper.”

“Alright,” he said, stepping back. She appreciated his concern, even if it was unnecessary. 

They walked in step, setting forth for one of the Stronghold’s side doors. Inej squared her shoulders, rolling up her long sleeves, trying to appear as professional as possible. 

They reached the door. The front entrance of the compound was open and monitored, serving as the checkpoint for guards bringing new prisoners. Inej and Jesper entered through the side, bypassing the front without any new prisoners- test subjects- to provide.

The first floor, as Annaye had informed them, served as a place for the guards to check in with their superiors and rotate for their shifts. She and Jesper kept close to the side wall, trying to remain inconspicuous, skirting along the edges of the bustling activity that filled the expansive room.

Guards came and went, talking merily amongst themselves. Inej found it odd and slightly horrifying that they could all be so jovial in spite of the horrors that transpired just a floor above. They didn’t seem bothered by what Annaye had described- pain and suffering, experiments tested on innocents, government weapons being tested.

At the back of the room were two elevator shafts. Inej watched as the elevator on the right lowered, rust squealing on the hinges. The cart shuddered to a halt, and the guard inside pulled the grated door open, stepping out with a fellow patrolman. 

Jesper and Inej brushed past them wordlessly, stepping in to take their place. Before closing the door, Inej pulled one of the bombs from her bag. It was a smoke grenade, Jesper had explained in the carriage on Wylan’s behalf. The effects were not long-lasting, but the smoke was thick and stifling, a perfectly disorienting distraction.

Jesper nodded to her. Inej threw the bomb as far as she could. It clattered against the middle of the floor, instantly spewing smoke. 

By the time enough of the guards had noticed, thick smoke was already spreading from the case. It rose to obscure their view. The shouts soon began, frantic cries of confusion. Someone’s weapon was fired into the crowd. All the screaming only grew louder. 

It was a terrible chaos, a beautiful one. The two of them watched until it was impossible to see, until the smoke crept closer to the elevator in which they stood.

Inej pulled the grating shut, locking the elevator securely. She ran a hand along the criss-crossing bars with curiosity. Burnt-orange rust flaked against her fingertips.

The cart felt like a cage; fitting, as they were about to reach the first of two floors that held the prison cells. Inej could already hear the clamor echoing through the elevator shaft- inmates wailing and banging against the bars of their cells, spurred by the tumult from the first floor.

Jesper pulled the small lever up, locking it into place next to the little ‘5’ engraved on the control panel. The elevator cart shuddered and began to rise after a moment of stalling.

Inej consulted Annaye’s map once more, just to be sure of their path upward. The cells occupied the second and third level of the Stronghold, followed by a decontamination floor for the scientists and any guards bringing prisoners to enter the labs. 

Jesper’s task was to secure samples of _fantya veir_ and any scientists that would be able to tell them more- how the drug was being manufactured, what was in it, the full effects on the mind. Inej would head to the eighth and ninth floors, which held the offices and records hall.

Hearing the prisoners in their cells was bad, but seeing them was more terrible. Inej was reminded, horribly, of the Ice Court. This somehow seemed worse; half the prisoners weren’t even clothed, shivering in the corners of cramped cells. There were men, women and children alike- all trapped, all suffering, all seeming like they would rather choose to die.

Children. Innocent lives taken from their parents, enduring this hellish place alone, treated as experiments.

Inej felt rage, unfathomable fury, the explosive kind that made her head spin. It was the same type of anger she experienced when she passed the Menagerie in Ketterdam, when she faced another cruel slaver on her journeys. “We have to free them,” she said to Jesper. Her voice trembled.

Jesper was somber, seemingly transfixed by all the pain that surrounded them, his eyes wide and sad. “We will,” he said. “We’ll come back, someday. But Inej, you know we can’t help them right now.”

She did know that, even if she didn’t want to accept it. Their time here was borrowed; the smoke disrupting the first floor would clear soon. An inspection would be conducted floor-by-floor once it was safe for the guards to investigate the intruders. There were too many opportunities for the innocents to be hurt without a proper plan to safely get them out. 

“Too many of them will die here before we have the chance to return,” Inej said quietly.

Jesper blew out a heavy sigh. “I know. I know, Inej.”

The silence between them was more burdensome now, weighed down by sorrow. Inej stared straight ahead as they passed the second floor, then the third and fourth. The elevator came to a gradual halt. 

Jesper pulled the door open, stepping out of the elevator. He slammed the door shut behind him. 

“Be careful, Jesper,” Inej said. 

He winked at her, spinning one of his revolvers before he tucked it back in his side holster. “You know I will be.”

Inej nodded to him. He turned on his heel to disappear down the hall, and Inej pulled the lever, taking the elevator up another three levels alone. Not having Jesper close mader her nervous, making it seem more likely that one of them could be killed now that they were separated. 

As the elevator ascended Inej tried to let her hope rise with it, leaving all her fears to wash away. Jesper was an expert marksman. Inej was the Wraith, famed and feared in Ketterdam to this day. The city was riding on her and Jesper’s success. And Inej had her doubts that any of the patrolmen here at the Stronghold were trained at all.

They would be alright; she and Jesper were going to survive. 

When the elevator came to a stop once more, now on the eighth level, Inej stepped out, already planning the means for a perfect escape. 

~--~

The elevator shaft came to an end on the sixth floor. Inej left the grated door open behind her, finding herself in another decontamination room. It was mostly bare, save for several rows of basins, storage containers and faucets. 

Inej bypassed all of it. She approached the stairwell, peering around first to make sure she was truly alone. The stairs were empty as she climbed past the seventh floor, which held barracks for the guards, before reaching the eighth level.

The office space there was vacant, all the guards trying to rotate shifts amidst the mayhem on the first floor, but the room was filled with a mess of files worse than Inej had ever seen. There were crates filled with messy stacks of paper, some of them overturned, others cluttered in piles. Most of the desks were covered in a thin layer of dust. Inej wondered how long it had been since anyone used the room.

The guards had no reason to use the desks, so Inej supposed they were reserved for head scientists and higher-level officials. But they’d evidently neglected the space; perhaps those that had the luxury of working away from the Stronghold, this place of horror and death, took full advantage.

Inej seized the nearest box of files, rifling through it helplessly. She had no idea where to look first. Many of the papers seemed to be files on the guards and personnel. In another pile of boxes Inej found notes on the prisoners, their physical appearance and from where they had been taken, but no real information on what was done to them or the studies detailing drugs such as _fantya_.

The alchemy and experiment files must be in the labs, or perhaps the records room. Inej set out for the small, dark staircase at the back of the room, which she knew led to the records storehouse.

It was an even more dusty room than the floor below. Inej coughed, waving a hand in front of her face to try and clear the air. The shelves were more organized than the desks in the office, Inej realized with relief. And these files seemed much more official, bound with leather covers.

She picked up one of the first ones, turning it over. Inej blinked in surprise. The Kerch military insignia was printed there in a shiny gold-leaf material.

Strange. Annaye had been right; the government was behind the Stronghold, staying hidden, betraying their own people for the sake of science, money.

It was disgusting. Inej tucked the files under her arm, searching for more useful information. The Kerch symbol was incriminating enough; if she could find a way to spread news of this proof in Ketterdam, there would be a massive uproar. 

Further back in the room were financial records. Perfect, Inej thought grimly. She began flipping through the ones in the front first, finding more recent dates. Drugs and weapons were being shipped within, and outside of, the country. Inej recognized several names of Shu officials, as well as some from Novyi Zem and Ravka. 

Then she glimpsed a name and location that nearly made her drop the records book in surprise.

In clear print, near the bottom of the page, read the words _Erijer Prenten. Ten cases of_ fantya veir. _To Ketterdam, Kerch._

The delivery date listed below was eighteen days previously. The Fire Fliers boss had already been in possession of this drug for nearly three weeks.

Inej swallowed hard. She ripped the page from its bindings, folding it in her shirt. In case the book got lost, she needed the proof that Prenten had purchased _fantya_ , primarily for Kaz but also for whomever they might have to challenge about the existence and shipments of the drug. 

Inej had been here for too long already. She grabbed another book and a folder for good measure without looking through them, just to have as much information as possible. She descended the stairs, bypassing the office before reaching the elevator once more.

She waited anxiously for the elevator to return to the labs on floor five, tapping her foot against the floor with impatience. Inej had no idea what she might find when she returned to Jesper, and the anticipation made her heart race.

Inej entered the labs, finally, just in time to see Jesper drawing one of his guns on a man cowering in the corner. She approached them, pulling a long blade from her sleeve. The man being held at gunpoint jerked wildly when he noticed Inej, now standing at Jesper’s shoulder. 

“You’re one of the scientists?” Jesper asked in a low voice. There was a satchel thrown over his shoulder. 

“I’m just a research assistant!” he cried. “My boss was killed just this morning in an explosion, and now they’re considering making me a head scientist.” He looked frantically between them. “Who even are you two?”

“That’s not important,” said Jesper. “What do you know about _fantya veir_?”

“Everything!” the scientist rushed to say. “I was part of the team that manufactured it, not that I wanted to.”

Forced complacency once more, came the grim thought. Inej wondered if any of the people here were loyal to the Stronghold or the Kerch government. 

“We can help you escape,” Jesper said, “if you agree to come with us and report every damn thing you know about _fantya_ to my boss.”

“You’re pointing a gun at me!” The scientist’s voice climbed an octave, becoming even more shrill. “How am I supposed to trust you? Hell, this girl could be a government spy, you too, trying to see if I’m loyal to the Stronghold.”

“We came from the north,” Jesper said. “Our ride is waiting in the forest. We’re risking our asses here right now, same as you. If we can get you out of the Stronghold, you’ll have a much greater chance of escape. Of freedom. But if you refuse now, the offer ends right here, along with your life.”

Jesper’s tone was harsh and cold. The scientist shrank back even further. Sweat beaded on his brow.

Inej doubted Jesper would actually shoot the man, but the scientist clearly didn’t hold the same sentiment. He nodded. “I’ll take your deal. Get me out of here.”

“Bring all the notes you can carry,” Jesper ordered. He turned to Inej, opening his satchel, allowing her and then the researcher to dump their files inside. “He gave me samples,” Jesper told her quietly. “A decent supply for our gang.”

“The Fire Fliers have _fantya_ as well,” Inej told him, quietly but urgently. “I found Prenten’s name in the financials.”

Jesper’s jaw clenched. “That’s not good. But we’ll leave it for Kaz to deal with when we get out of here and back to the city.”

His gun remained pointed at the scientist as they walked down the hall toward the elevator. Inej froze, holding out an arm to stop Jesper and the guard when she looked ahead.

The elevator was gone. She’d made sure to leave the grated door open, and the elevator stationed on this floor, to aid their escape. But the smoke bomb diversion must have dispersed at last, and they were too late now, their only means of escape closed off.

Jesper cursed. “Is there any other means of exiting this floor?” he asked immediately.

The scientist stared at him, face going pale. “No,” he said slowly. “Just the elevator.” 

“They’re coming,” Inej said. She could hear the screeching metal of the elevator as it ascended, narrowing in on the stop at the fifth floor. 

Just before the top of the cart came in sight, Jesper shoved the scientist in front of him. “Sorry,” Jesper said, just before he struck the man against the jaw with the barrel of his pistol.

“What are you doing?” Inej hissed. The scientist’s head lolled, clearly stunned. The newly-formed cut on his cheekbone began dripping blood.

Jesper hushed her. “Not a word,” he warned the man, returning him to his place at Jesper’s side, his pistol properly aimed once more. “Say anything, and I’ll blow out your spine.”

The elevator came to a stop in front of them. Six guards piled out of the elevator cart, lowering their weapons once they saw the uniforms Jesper and Inej wore. 

“What in all hell happened here?” demanded the head guard gruffly.

“There are intruders!” Inej shouted. “They injured this worker and some of the others. He’s most valuable- we’re escorting him to safety. The intruders were heading for the ninth floor.”

“Why didn’t you stop them?” the guard demanded.

“We apprehended two,” Jesper added in. “But the others fled while we were trying to save the scientists. Their research should be prioritized.”

“Agreed,” said the guard with a sharp nod. He directed two of the guards forward. “Search this floor. We’ll cover the rest. Those thieves won’t get away!”

The two ran forward as instructed, brushing past Inej and Jesper without question. But then one of them hesitated, turning back to the head guard, now facing their backs. In clear view of the gun Jesper had pressed threateningly against the scientist’s back. 

“Hey, wait a second!” the man yelled. “He’s got a gun!”

“Get down!” Jesper yelled back, pulling something from his pocket as Inej prepared a knife to throw, knowing they’d been discovered.

Jesper slammed the object against the floor. A flash grenade, Inej realized as she threw a knife at the leading guard. The blade embedded itself in his throat. From behind them, a shot went off just as the bomb exploded.

Inej looked away from it too late, and she fell to the ground, bright spots dancing in her vision and rendering her blind. The guards cried out, one likely dead already from her knife, the others stunned just as she was.

Jesper grabbed her by the shoulder, hauling her up and half-carrying her to the elevator. Inej pressed her fists against her eyes once they were inside the cart, trying to clear the dizzying light to no avail.

“I told you to look away, dammit,” Jesper said apologetically. She heard him pull the control lever, and felt the elevator begin to lower.

Inej blinked hard. “I know that. It was too late- I was primarily trying to take out the guards.” Then she realized- “the scientist, where is he?”

“They shot him in the skull,” Jesper said grimly. “A bullet clean through the forehead, courtesy of the guard that found us out. I should have realized that, but I didn’t. Annaye warned us the guards have orders to shoot on sight. They took him out first because of what he knew.”

“It all happened so fast,” Inej murmured in consolation. 

“Give me the rest of your bombs,” Jesper said.

“In my bag,” Inej directed him. “I can’t see.”

Jesper swore, unlatching her small bag, and removed Wylan’s explosives. 

The elevator began to slow. They must have reached the first floor. “You have a plan,” she said hopefully.

“Flash grenade first, then a smoke bomb,” Jesper answered. “Stun them, then make sure they stay blind. Keep your eyes closed, Inej. Hold onto my arm and don’t let go.” She obeyed instantly.

Inej heard Jesper shove the grated door open, leaping out and pulling her down before the elevator halted fully. Guns were drawn, by how many guards awaiting them Inej didn’t know. But Jesper threw a flash grenade for the second time, and she turned her head away from the explosion to prevent being blinded once more.

Jesper yanked her down to the ground, veering off to the left. A storm of bullets rained over their heads, slamming against the wall and ricocheting off the elevator door where their heads had just been. Jesper threw a smoke bomb next, a small hissing sound filling the air as the heavy smoke began to disperse.

Inej dared to open her eyes, then. The spots obscuring her vision had begun to clear, but barely. She followed Jesper’s lead blindly. All Inej could do was hope he was leading them in the right direction. 

Eventually they made it outside. Inej laughed in relief- they’d made it. Somehow, she and Jesper had survived.

They ran as fast as they possibly could, feet slipping on the damp grass. Guns were still being fired at them blindly from within the Stronghold, guards shooting at random in hopes of stopping them at whatever cost. 

A bullet came frighteningly close. Jesper stumbled slightly, his falter almost causing both of them to trip, but still they ran. Inej could almost see clearly now, and though bright light still flashed in parts of her vision, the gate through which Jesper had entered was vacant save for the unconscious guards Inej had already apprehended.

They passed through the gate. Inej clipped her shoulder against the metal on the side, ignoring the sting of it. Jesper was panting heavily. They had reached the forest now, gaps in the trees overhead revealing a sky still dark from twilight. 

She lost track of time as they ran through the trees, putting more distance between them and the Stronghold with each passing second. Were their footsteps of guarda behind them in pursuit? Inej couldn't’ tell if it was that or the sound of their own footsteps and her pounding heart.

Jesper stumbled again. “Are you alright?” Inej asked frantically. She kept blinking hard, trying not to trip on any stray tree roots or branches as the world became more visible.

“Fine,” Jesper said quickly. “Keep going. We- we have to be close.”

Inej heard it, then; the soft whinny of reluctant horses. “Keeg?” she shouted. 

“Fahey? Wraith? That you guys?” came his voice in return.

“We’re here!” Jesper yelled back. His voice broke.

“I’ll be damned!” Keeg whooped. “You two made it back! I thought I’d be returning to Brekker with some corpses.”

They reached the coach, Inej slamming against it in exhausted relief. Jesper doubled over next to her.

“Get in!” Keeg said. “I’m sick of all these trees. I want out! I’ll never be so happy to see a cup of shit-bitter coffee and all of the Ketterdam smog. 

Jesper let out a strained laugh. He sat down heavily in the coach, tossing the bag of files and _fantya_ samples aside. Inej placed it more carefully on the floor, partially hiding it under the seat.

As soon as they shut the doors of the coach, Keeg flicked the reins hard, spurring the horses into motion. They rode down the same path from which they came, soon reaching the mountain pass where another group of bodies had been left.

Inej was distracted from looking around by the sound of Jesper breathing heavily beside her, too loud and too fast now that they had reached safety. She realized, now that her vision had cleared and they were no longer running, that something was terribly wrong. 

“Ah, Inej?” Jesper said before she could ask what had happened. His voice sounded weak. “We might have a problem.”

Inej turned in time to see his eyes roll to the back of his head. Jesper slumped sideways in his seat, eyes fluttering, face drained of color.

“Jesper!” she cried. Inej saw that there was blood on his left hand, shining dark red in the poor light. She tracked the source, her hands coming up to cover the wound on his side.

“Just a bullet,” Jesper grinned, his expression more pained than anything, detracting from his cheery tone. “One of the bastards back there got a damn lucky shot. I’d try to pull it out, but-” he hissed in pain- “then I’d probably start bleeding out faster. And gambling may not be my strong suit, but even I wouldn’t put money on my ability to use my powers right now.”

Powers. Inej had nearly forgotten Jesper was a Fabrikator. “Don’t speak,” she soothed, applying more pressure. “Save your strength. Try not to move.”

Jesper coughed. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”

“What happened?” Keeg demanded.

“They hit Jesper. He’s bleeding, Keeg. It’s not good.”

Keeg swore violently. “Anything you can do to fix him up?”

“Not much.” She tore off the edge of her right shirtsleeve, using it as a makeshift bandage. The cloth soon became stained crimson; she tore off another piece of fabric to add more layers.

“Faster, Keeg,” Inej called to the front. “He’s losing a lot of blood.”

“I’m doing my best,” said Keeg. “But these horses can’t go much faster. And Ketterdam’s still real far, Wraith. Real far- days away.” 

“He won’t make it. There’s no way.”

“Have a little faith in me, Inej.” Jesper coughed again. When he grinned there was blood on his teeth.

“I do,” she murmured, trying to calm him. It was true, but they were impossibly far from the city, and even a man like Jesper couldn’t hold out for so long. He was losing too much blood.

Inej applied more pressure on the wound at the thought, making Jesper groan through clenched teeth. “I’m sorry,” Inej whispered. Her heart was racing.

What would she do, if Jesper died here on an empty country road? Wylan would never forgive her; Inej would never forgive herself. Nina would be destroyed by the fact that another one of them had been lost to death. And Kaz would be haunted forever, even if he tried to deny or hide it, Inej knew. After all, he was the reason they were here to begin with.

_Let Jesper survive_ , Inej prayed wildly, casting out her plea to all the Saints, any merciful god that might listen. _He has to survive. Please_. 

Then she remembered the farm. The safehouse Kaz had described to her, clever as he was, in case they needed a place of safety. 

She had never been more grateful for all his careful schemes, his outlandish plans. When they arrived back in Ketterdam, surely Inej would have to fight the urge to either punch Kaz or hug him. 

Daring to take a hand away from Jesper’s bloody side, Inej pulled Annaye’s hand-drawn map from her inner pocket, unfolding it frantically. She ignored the copper stains on the paper from bloody fingertips as she shifted her weight, leaning forward through the small front window of the coach so that Keeg could hear her. 

“Keeg!” she yelled. “We passed a farm yesterday-”

He cut her off. “This whole damn region is farms!” he yelled back. “You’re gonna have to give me something more than that, Wraith.”

“I know! But Kaz told me about a specific one- there was a lake and an orchard near the front of the property. Do you remember it?” She prayed Keeg knew. Inej had been asleep for most of the journey, trying to save her strength- and Jesper was barely conscious now, jaw slack and eyes half-lidded, unable to help even if he had seen the safehouse. 

Keeg went silent for a moment. “I do,” he eventually said, nodding vigorously. “I saw that lake and thought to myself, damn, I’ve been wasting away in Ketterdam’s filth while these farm folk are living like that.”

Inej almost laughed. “How far is it?” she asked. 

“A couple hours, if I work these horses until they’re half-dead.”

That felt cruel to her, but then Inej looked down at Jesper, who was more than half-dead already. “Do it,” Inej said confidently. “Don’t stop, Keeg. Tell me when we’re close.”

~--~

Her world narrowed to nothing but Jesper and the pressure Inej was applying to the wound. 

His face was ashen now, and he’d been feverishly incoherent for hours, mouth slack despite his occasional effort to form words. 

Inej kept trying to quiet him, and she was almost entirely successful, until now. Jesper sat up as best he could despite her warnings, struggling against his pain. When he looked at her, his gray eyes were glazed and vacant. 

“Inej.” Jesper spoke suddenly, with more clarity than he’d had since he was first shot. 

“Yes?” she asked softly. 

“I need you to-“ he broke off with a wince, hanging his head for a moment. “Need to tell Wylan that-“

“No,” Inej said immediately, her heart twisting. “No, Jesper.” She couldn’t bear to hear a deathbed confession from him; not here, not ever.

“ _Yes_ , ‘Nej,” he said. “Listen. Tell him... I love him. More than he’ll ever know. And… I would hate Ketterdam by now if he wasn’t in it.” Jesper coughed. Blood flecked on his lips. “He makes that city better. Make sure he knows.” 

“You can tell him all those wonderful things yourself when you see him again,” Inej said, forcing herself to believe it. 

Jesper didn’t look convinced. “I don’t think so, Inej,” he whispered in defeat. “Not this time.” His eyes drifted shut, chest hitching on a single shuddering breath.

“Jesper?” Inej asked frantically. “Jesper, can you hear me? Wake up! Jesper, wake up!” 

Nothing. No response, no evidence of life at all. Her own heart racing, Inej lifted a bloody hand to the side of his throat. There was a pulse there, barely present, so faint Inej almost missed it.

“Keeg!” she screamed, jarring and anguished. She saw the man jump in his seat, startled by her outburst. “He’s not going to make it. Where is the safe house?”

“It’s close, Wraith,” he said, lashing the reins for good measure, making sure the horses were riding as fast as they possibly could. “Real close, I swear it.” 

Inej stared out the window with bated breath, repeating ‘lake, farmhouse, orchard’ in her mind like a mantra. She craned her neck, looking for any sign of the Rietveld farm.

Keeg saw it first. He shouted excitedly, and Inej turned to see where he was pointing. Just as Kaz had promised, there was a dirt path next to a lake and an orchard that led to a farmhouse, which overlooked several acres of green crops. 

Inej’s sigh of relief was closer to a sob. She kept two fingers jammed against Jesper’s neck, tracking his pulse, which seemed to grow weaker by the second. 

Leading the horses down the road, Keeg halted in front of the house. The horses screamed in protest when he yanked on the reins, coming to an uneasy stop after pulling out of a wide turn. The coach almost tipped. One of the axles groaned in protest before the vehicle righted itself. 

Inej leapt out in an instant, sprinting for the front door. She hammered on it, likely bruising her knuckles against the heavy oak, not that she particularly cared. 

This farmhouse was her last hope. If something had happened here, if no one was home to help, Inej knew in her heart that Jesper would not survive the hour. He would never make it home.

Yet suddenly there were low murmurs coming from the other side of the door. “Hello?” she called.

No response. The discussion quieted. “Johannus Rietveld sent me!” she shouted desperately through the door, trying again. “His best friend is outside. He’s dying! You have to help him.”

The door opened carefully at that, so slow it made Inej want to scream. A woman with dark, familiar eyes stood in the doorway, a rifle in her grip. Behind her was a young girl with black wavy hair, no older than Inej herself, who had her arms folded timidly against her chest.

“Well?” Inej demanded. The two women stared back at her. “Are you going to let him die?” She pointed to the carriage, its door still flung open. Keeg watched from the driver’s seat with wild eyes. Jesper’s slumped form was visible, and so was all the blood, dripping onto the dirt.

The girl started forward at that, slipping past the older woman and onto the porch. She headed straight for the carriage, Inej at her heels. The woman followed, loading her shotgun with a menacing click. 

Pulling the makeshift bandage aside, the girl put her hands against Jesper’s skin, trying to staunch the bleeding. “Fetch the tonic and bandages, please,” she said to the woman, receiving a sharp nod in response. Then the girl refocused her attention on Jesper, squeezing her eyes shut. 

Inej stared at the girl, watching closely. With painstaking slowness, Jesper’s flesh and skin began knitting back together.

The woman was Grisha. She was a Healer, to be exact.

“You’re a Healer,” Inej said carefully, voicing her thoughts. 

“Not a very good one,” she said woefully. “I can’t heal this man, not entirely.”

“Will he survive?” Inej dared to ask. 

She studied the wound. “I believe so. I hope he will.”

Inej supposed she’d have to make do with those odds.

The older woman returned in a hurry, sporting a bottle of translucent blue liquid and a pile of white linen bandages. She placed the bottle at the Healer’s side, then unfolded one of the bandages, resting the others on top to keep them clean. 

Inej had secured the satchel of _fantya_ on the floor. It was partially out of sight, but the woman zeroed her gaze on it anyway. She kept glancing between Inej and the bag as the Healer worked. 

The young woman pressed a second layer of bandages to Jesper’s wound after pouring some of the liquid on it. Then she brought the bottle to his lips, opening his mouth carefully, and poured some of the tonic. 

“You know Johannus Rietveld,” said the older one. It wasn’t a question. 

“I do.”

“How do you know him? Why did he tell you about this place?”

Inej hesitated at that. What was Kaz to her? He’d been her employer initially, perhaps her boss as well, but that partnership had ended officially when he paid off her contract. And they weren’t friends, that was the wrong word to describe them, but they also weren’t acquaintances, or anything near strangers, or… something more.

“He saved my life,” was the response she decided on. 

“Rietveld also saved mine,” the Healer murmured.

Inej tilted her head. “Then I suppose we have stories to share.”

The older woman was still watching her warily. The Healer gave a small smile. “Yes, I believe we do.” Then, in Ravkan, she asked “May I know your name?”

“Inej,” she responded before taking the time to consider her answer. Kaz had used an alias with these people, but Inej still felt drained and frantic from what they’d faced at the Stronghold, and she didn’t have the time or strength to come up with a convincing lie.

“Call me Tekke,” the Healer said. “Please, come inside. I will help your friend, and then we can talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> btw this fic includes no major character death ever. in case anyone was concerned. we're not doing that here.  
> this chapter was painful to write and it shows tbh :D moral of the story- plan your chapters. also i fr just realized that kaz arranging a funeral-ish thing for erry a few chapters ago goes against the literal core mindset of the dregs. ...lol it's Fine. artistic liberties. plus erry became the dead brother substitute so yeah!  
> also, is it slightly unrealistic that the two of them survived the stronghold? perhaps. but when you consider inej being the wraith and having all those skills, jesper being a grisha sharpshooter, wylan being good at chem/demo and giving them bombs, AND keeg being their getaway man, AND the stronghold personnel assuming no one could climb the wall or get in.. i thought it made reasonable sense. (plus jesper got shot so they weren't unscathed)  
> his goodbye to wylan though- now that was fun. "he makes that city better" etc. i actually rly like that part !  
> ao3 really needs to put a more strict character limit on the end notes, like oml i just wrote a full essay. anyway i have most of chapters 13/14/15 already written so these next few updates will actually come fast (starting c12 rn). i hate that this one took 2+ weeks :(( november was so busy and for what.   
> anyway if anyone read through these ridiculous notes- thanks for reading and see ya in a few days


	12. 12 ~ Nina

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When another spree of murders is reported, this time in the University District, Nina and Anika travel east to investigate. Nina encounters something strange about her powers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (this is the filler chapter to end all filler chapters. i mean there are kinda important plot details but this is a shameless transition to the Big Stuff. it's also kinda rushed because I'm tired but wanted to finish it)  
> *jazz hands* LISTEN UP people- stick around for this rant here  
> i am updating this fic for the second time in three days. (that does not happen! ever!! but it did). my total word count for this ao3 account has officially exceeded 100K words. this fic alone reached FIFTY THOUSAND words, technically the longest thing I've written and kept ever. AND it's gotten over a thousand hits (i expected it to get roughly 3)! i am so ridiculously excited rn.  
> anyway enjoy! there's more murder in this chapter (so maybe don't enjoy... or do, just not the murder part ! i am glad to have another nina POV though, after eight whole chapters and like.. two months lmfao)

Nina had thrown herself onto one of the long couches in the main room of the Slat, silently watching Wylan and Kaz. She wasn’t sure if she should try harder to hold back her concern or her laughter. 

Nothing about the situation was funny, really. Kaz was seated in a low chair, his bad leg stretched out, cane discarded to the side. It seemed as if he were trying to act casual, collected as he always was, but Nina didn’t fail to notice how he glanced up at the door every time someone new walked in through the front.

There were files in his lap, balanced precariously on one thigh. He had a perfectly respectable workspace in his office, and Nina knew he even preferred the solitude, the quiet. But he’d chosen to work here instead, as loud and impractical as it was. 

Kaz, she knew, was sitting here in order to wait for any word on Jesper and Inej’s fate. They all were. Nina half-expected to see her friends appear in the doorway, smiling and unscathed, as unlikely as that was. 

She was able to compose herself, though, as was Anika from her place at Nina’s right. The other two weren’t nearly as successful in that regard. 

Wylan was more outwardly stressed. He’d begun panicking before Jesper and Inej even departed Ketterdam just a few short hours previously. Now he was pacing behind Kaz’s chair, wisely keeping out of sight, occasionally muttering something under his breath. Nina wondered if he would wear down the floorboards before Inej and Jesper had the chance to come back.

She snorted in amusement at the thought. Kaz glanced up at her, raising an irritable brow before he returned to his paperwork. 

Nina was glad Wylan and Kaz kept out of each other’s sight. She didn’t want to find out what altercation might arise if they started trying to bite each other’s heads off once more.

It’d been bad enough in the aftermath of poor young Erry’s death. Nina had never heard Wylan shout like that, especially not at Kaz. In the time since, the pair had seemed to form an uneasy truce. But tensions were high right now, and would only climb further. Especially since it was now Inej and Jesper whose lives were on the line.

Nina sighed quietly to herself. She was dreadfully bored, having to sit around the Slat with nothing to do, merely trying to keep her own worry quelled. She supposed she could go visit Annaye, their own little fugitive, and pester useless answers to equally useless questions out of her. But the poor woman was terrified enough already, and Nina would hate to add to her burden. 

Nothing could be done now for their friends, after all. Even if Annaye had information she’d forgotten or chosen to withhold, the rest of them couldn’t possibly relay that to Inej and Jesper before it was too late. 

Anika scooted closer to Nina on the couch, leaning in. “Ten _kruge_ says Wylan will be the one to snap first,” she said quietly.

“That’s cruel,” Nina chided. Then she considered it for a moment, choosing to pull some money of her own from the side pocket sewn into her red dress. “Twenty _kruge_ ,” she bargained, upping the price. “And my money’s on Kaz.”

Anika raised her money. “The deal is the deal.” They both hurriedly put their _kruge_ away before Kaz could question what they were up to. 

The next day and half passed much the same, with little fanfare and too much lazing about. Nina occupied herself as best she could- reacquainting herself with the city, catching up with old friends and contacts, conversing with some of the newer Dregs as much as she could bear. 

But she wanted a good friend to spend her time with that could help keep Nina preoccupied from all her fears. Of course, there was one major issue in that regard; the two people she most wanted to see were the ones currently absent from Ketterdam’s streets.

It wasn’t that big a deal, truly; Nina was more than capable of finding ways to enjoy herself alone. It simply would have been nicer with Jesper or Inej or anyone else. But as for her current options, Kaz was too existentially dull, and Wylan was too anxious at the moment to be properly entertaining. 

On the second day after Keeg set out for the Stronghold with Jesper and Inej, Nina and the others spent much of their time the exact same way. Kaz had Roeder on standby, splitting the Spider’s time between two tasks- trying to track the Fire Fliers as discreetly as possible, while waiting for any signs of Inej and Jesper’s survival.

Which led to a new spy approaching them in the Slat’s main room. It was a woman slightly older than Nina herself named Jarmile. Kaz had placed her as a hurried, temporary replacement for Erry; he’d met her through an old contact of his own. He and Anika trusted Jarmile well enough, so she was allowed to gather intel for the Dregs.

“Jarmile,” Anika greeted her. “What news?”

“There’s been another spree of murders,” she rushed to say. Jarmile was a Kaelish woman with milky skin and fiery hair that she concealed with a hood. There was a flush high on her cheekbones from running in the cold. 

Kaz’s head jerked up at that. “Where?” he asked. 

“In the University District,” she reported, moving further into the room. She perched on the armrest of the chair Nina sat in. “It was a student. She killed seven of her classmates before the school’s security was able to… subdue her.”

“She’s been killed?” came Kaz’s question. His eyes shifted to the door before he refocused his gaze on Jarmile.

“Yes. The student had a revolver that she refused to put down. One of her classmates, and the teacher, were killed that way. By accident.”

“That doesn’t sound like a particularly well-planned murder,” Wylan mumbled. He was standing by the rough stone fireplace on the far wall. He’d stopped pacing when Jarmile entered the room, now watching the spy with careful, sad eyes. 

“I didn’t investigate the scene for myself,” said Jarmile, “but I heard more than enough. It was a bloodbath. The student, the killer, seemed out of her mind.”

“Anika. You’ll investigate,” Kaz said. He glanced over at the door once more, having already done so far too many times in the past half-hour. 

“Gladly,” she replied, hoisting herself out of her seat. “I need something to do. Having to sit around and do all this waiting is painful.”

“I refuse to go this time,” Wylan spoke up, louder now. “You can’t make me.”

“There’s no need,” Nina cut in. She’d discarded the thought of waiting on the side to see how Kaz might respond. “Anika, I share your sentiment. Rather terribly, in fact. We can go together.” 

Anika grinned at her. “Gladly.”

Nina stood up from her plush chair. She pulled at the collar of her tight dress. “We should probably make ourselves more presentable. It would help us blend in.” Right now, it was painfully obvious that they were both residing in the Barrel, not the more sophisticated University District.

“Agreed.” Anika headed for the stairs; Nina knew her room was on the second floor. She turned back around to look at Nina with her hand on the banister. “We leave within the hour?”

“I’ll be ready,” Nina said with a nod. Anika turned to head upstairs, disappearing into her room. 

~--~

“I feel like Ketterdam winters haven’t always been this cold,” Anika said. She bundled further into her thick olive-colored coat, turning the collar up.

The two of them had departed from the Slat no more than an hour ago. They sat in a low canalboat, heading east across the city from the Barrel. The University District was on the far east coast of Ketterdam, so they had more than a decent ways to travel. Thankfully, there was a route along the many canals that would lead them directly to the school. 

“I don’t know,” Nina said with a mild shrug. Icy wind blew past them, and Nina had a lighter jacket on, but she didn’t particularly mind the chill. “It feels nice, in a way. Peaceful.”

Perhaps that was because she’d spent much of the past few months along the northern borders of Fjerda, traveling through dense forests and frigid conditions wicked enough to send innocent travelers to their deaths.

Do not think about that, Nina reminded herself fiercely. She refused to. Right now, it would do her little good, thinking about _him_. 

“Peaceful,” Anika snorted. It provided an easy distraction from her thoughts. Nina laughed quietly in response. 

Soon enough, they reached the University District. There was much more evidence of wealth here than in the Barrel; clean storefronts, more sophisticated clothing, less weapons holstered at waists. Women carried their purses more freely, the threat of being pickpocketed astoundingly low. Many of the people Anika and Nina passed once they climbed out of the boat held books and folders for their schooling.

“It seems like such a boring life,” Anika murmured. She glanced at a flustered young man rifling through his satchel, likely for some missing book or assignment. He lingered in the street; in the Barrel, that was more likely to get you killed or harassed than anything. 

Was there a hint of wistfulness in Anika’s tone? “Perhaps,” Nina answered carefully. Suddenly she wondered where Anika had come from, why she’d joined the Dregs. It wasn’t something Nina had ever thought to ask.

“You could have at least worn a skirt,” Nina said with a playful nudge, smoothing down her own dress, which nearly reached her ankles. She’d exchanged her typical outerwear for something with more plaid, as was the typical fashion for young women in the University District. She’d gone shopping for the dress, which was a blissful relief from all the waiting, the mix of boredom and apprehension.

There had been a dreadfully bright magenta dress on display in that shop, Nina thought with a pang of sadness. The color reminded her of Jesper, with his bizarre fashion color palette- and that just reminded her again that he and Inej were gone. That the two of them could be missing or dead.

“Absolutely not,” Anika deadpanned. “I’ll drown myself in the harbor before you see me wearing something like that. There are ruffles. That’s horrifying” She waved a distasteful hand at Nina’s dress. Anika had still chosen a different style, though, donning a white tunic with beige pants and matching jacket. 

Nina beamed at that. She linked her arm with Anika’s as they traveled northward through the district, walking leisurely to ensure they didn’t seem out of place. 

Soon they reached the campus where the murders had occurred. There was an aura of terror and dread hovering around the space that had been absent on the surrounding streets. The lush green lawn spanning the front gardens of the school was interspersed with groups of students muttering amongst themselves. Nina saw that some of the students were crying, others merely exchanging gossip. Many of them were crowded on the front steps of the main building. 

Anika set out for that group, trying to get as close to the scene of the crime as possible. Apparently the students confined to the front steps were the unlucky ones; Nina noticed that several others had managed to get closer to the room where the actual deaths had occurred when she stood on her tiptoes to take stock of the remaining crowd. 

Nina wasn’t sure why the other students were even allowed to get so close. She and Anika pushed through the crowd, shoving people, dodging elbows and trying to avoid stepping on peoples’ feet. Several of the others in the crowd gave them dirty looks for trying to make their way to the front, but Nina ignored all the angry stares. 

Soon Anika and Nina were able to stand in the doorway of the classroom. Suddenly Nina realized why the crowd hadn’t been ushered away; the proper _stadwatch_ and detectives had yet to arrive. Only the campus security was present, and they were grossly under-equipped to handle the situation; several of the guards stood to the side, most of them looking sick, many wringing their hands.

The carnage before her made Nina’s breath catch. 

There were nine bodies on the floor; seven students, a teacher and a killer turned victim. There was blood everywhere, a truly astounding amount. It painted the floor, and everything really, in crimson. The bodies were pale, devoid of all life, and- and Nina could _feel_ them with her powers.

It seemed like she went as pale as the bodies on the floor. Anika stared at her in alarm. “Are you alright?” she demanded, trying to see what was wrong. “Nina, what happened?”

Nina swallowed hard. She tried for a smile; it didn’t work. Her mouth trembled. “Fine,” she said airily. “Just give me a moment, please?” She didn’t wait for Anika to respond before hurrying away. 

By the Saints. Nina rounded a corner and slumped against the wall, her breaths coming in heavy pants. There was a strange, cold energy radiating from those corpses. She was intimately aware of how the _parem_ obliterated her Heartrender abilities, leaving her with this shell of power, one that sought the dead instead of the living. She had even manipulated corpses before, controlling them, allowing go through the grotesque motions of the undead.

But this feeling was different; even stranger than before. The energy radiating from those bodies was disorienting, a dizzy spiral of anguish and confusion. That was especially true for the body of the killer, a gun still resting against her slack fingertips.

If Nina walked back into that room and made one of the bodies stand up to walk around, she knew for certain that it would wake up screaming. That was the feeling the room gave her- pure, strangled agony. And Nina didn’t want to admit it to herself, but the experience was more terrifying than anything she had ever known. 

Even though she had stepped away from the crime scene, Nina still felt that creeping feel of dread. She clawed uselessly at the neckline of her dress, trying to draw some minuscule comfort from the useless gesture. The issue couldn’t just be brushed away; this was a brutal magic intertwined with her very soul.

Nina calmed herself down by force, trying to chase away the peculiar feeling, then turning to an attempt to embrace it when that failed. It didn’t work, not completely, but soon she felt less like she was about to crawl out of her own mind. 

Back in the classroom, many of the students had finally been sent away. Nina could see that the city officials had arrived; a detective flanked by a troop of _stadwatch_ guards. Somehow Anika had managed to insert herself into the conversation about the bodies. She stood off to the side, speaking with what looked like the head investigator’s assistant. 

Several heads turned when Nina walked back in. Anika caught her eye, then leaned in to say something to the man she spoke with. He nodded at Nina, then made a dismissive gesture toward the other guards that looked prepared to throw her out. 

It felt impossible, but Nina took careful steps until she was standing over the body of the killer. The girl was painfully young, more than likely in her first year of studies at the university. Why had she done such a horrible thing? She had a bright future ahead of her in academia, but now it was all thrown away; she was dead, and had taken far too many others out with her.

The guards began documenting the other bodies, writing down notes and shouting various observations at each other. Nina watched the chaos passively; she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the murderer’s corpse.

Then she noticed something strange. There was a small mark on the side of the girl’s neck, visible only because of the way her hair was swept back from her pallid face. It almost appeared to be a puncture wound of some sort, swollen and red. 

She was about to question one of the investigators about it. Then she, along with everyone else in the room, was distracted by a strangled shout and sudden commotion from the door.

A young man flung himself into the classroom, eyes wild, hair askew. There were drying tear tracks on his cheeks. “That’s my sister!” he wailed, careening forward. He slipped on all the blood coating the floor, falling gracelessly on his knees by the girl’s side. “Why would you kill her?” he cried out. More tears leaked from his eyes. “Oh, Mae. How did this happen? What have you done?”

One of the _stadwatch_ stepped forward. “Sir, you cannot be here,” he said sternly. “I’ll be forced to remove you if you don’t escort yourself outside.”

“I won’t leave her!” he protested. “You can’t make me! That’s my sister, and now she’s dead!” He collapsed, falling back from the corpse, heartbroken wails shaking his throat.

The guard sighed heavily before he abruptly gripped the man’s arm, pulling him upright. Before she could even think about it, Nina ran forward to stand before the young man with the dead sister, gripping his wrist. 

“Listen to me,” she said quietly. The man watched her with grief-crazed eyes, and the guard beside him seemed to think Nina herself had lost it. “This is going to feel impossible,” she began, ignoring the strange looks she received, trying to summon the most comforting words possible. “Experiencing loss, it… it gets better, truly, but at the same time it never will. You can survive it, though. Honor Maerion. Remember her. Don’t let the circumstances of her death destroy you.”

He didn’t seem to understand, but he still gave her a quick, shaky nod. Then the _stadwatch_ guard escorted him away, and he was gone. 

Anika came over with the detective. “I think the two of you should leave,” he said. “We’re taking all this to the morgue now.”

Nina nodded. When she looked down, she realized there was blood on her hand from where she’d grabbed the man’s arm. She wiped it away on her dress as best she could, but some of it was already dried, clinging to her skin in coppery smears. “Let’s go,” she murmured to Anika, linking their arms once more.

Nina pulled away on the front steps of the building, turning to face Anika. She crossed her arms, leaning back on her heels. “What did the detective reveal to you?”

“Not much,” Anika admitted. “I used a quick ruse- told him my father was a captain in the Government District, and I’ve been learning about law enforcement in his stead.”

“I’m sure he loved that. What was he able to tell you about the killings?”

“Do you really want to know?” Anika asked. “No offense, Zenik, but you seemed real shaken up back there.” Her words came carefully. She looked away from Nina, staring out at the front lawn. Most of the students had left; Nina couldn’t think of anyone that would want to stay in a place reeking of such tragedy. 

“I’m fine.” Nina thought she almost sounded convincing. 

Anika clearly didn’t believe her; she kept her overview brief. “The detective still needs to interview witnesses from the room next door, but as far as he understands, all the kills were messy. The student, Maerion, used every bullet in her gun; it was overkill, majorly so. The guard told me she was screaming before he subdued her. As if she’d gone mad.”

Nina didn’t fail to notice the odd number of similarities between that description and the one of the first killer near Fifth Harbor. There was something wrong, here, besides the obvious. One mass murder was bad enough, but now a second had occurred of the same nature in just a few short days. 

“We should get back,” Nina decided with a frown. “Kaz needs to know about this.”

“You’re thinking about the other killer, aren’t you? Delver was his name.”

“Yes.” They walked across the grass, keeping their steps even, their conversation quiet. “Strange, isn’t it? Two bloody murder sprees, both unplanned, both seemingly the result of sudden madness.”

“A death toll of eighteen in three days.” Anika shivered. “Whatever the cause, I can only hope this madness has stopped now.” 

“As can I,” Nina said grimly. It was a comforting thought, but she knew that neither of them could truly be that hopeful, that naive. 

~--~

Nina and Anika had visited the university earlier that morning. Now it was nearing midnight, and Nina laid restlessly in her bed, unable to fall asleep. 

Kaz had remained stoic as ever as Anika reported their findings to him, although Nina couldn’t help but feel that he was secretly alarmed by the details. It was strange, how he seemed to be left in the dark about the whole situation. Of course, he might simply be choosing not to share all of his information with Nina. But Jarmile was being sent out to hunt for information near-constantly, and Roeder was supposed to be on standby for news from the Stronghold, but he frequently ventured for more information about the murders as well.

Nina wondered if anyone knew the true motives behind the killings- the _stadwatch_ , the other gangs, even the government. If anyone knew more than the general public, they had concealed their knowledge well. 

She turned over in her bed with a frustrated huff. Her pillow felt like a rock beneath her head. There was a tiny window, barely wider than Nina’s arm, on the side wall of her cramped bedchamber. Without any curtains to obscure the moonlight, it shone directly in her eyes. 

Eventually she gave up on sleep entirely, hauling herself off the small cot. Perhaps she would visit Annaye in her room at the back of the Crow Club. She’d delivered a grim message, but perhaps she knew of even the smallest shred of hope, something that could soothe Nina’s worries.

She had already seen one bright soul snuffed out too soon. If Inej and Jesper were to be added to her list of honored dead… Nina didn’t know what would happen to her. Surely she would be destroyed once and for all. 

Nina descended the stairs carefully, trying to step on the edges of each stair to keep quiet. She’d heard too many stories with gruesome endings about members of the Dregs woken up in their sleep. 

When she reached the first floor, mercifully avoiding the wrath of anyone who was actually able to sleep tonight, Nina decided to head for the kitchen. Any hopes of sleep abandoned entirely, she could pour herself some coffee and spend her time however she chose. 

Clearly, she wasn’t the only one with that idea. Kaz was standing in the kitchen area with Muzzen, his hair looking worse than normal, shirt buttoned up unevenly. He didn’t have his infamous cane in hand, and was leaning against the counter.

Muzzen looked equally as disheveled. Was that blood on his hand he attempted to scrub off in the basin?

“I’m wondering if I should ask about… all this,” Nina began, gesturing at their whole questionable appearance. 

Kaz snagged a mug from the cupboard, reaching for the coffee pitcher. “Pim was guarding Annaye at the Crow Club. Muzzen found him knocked out when he went to change shifts.” Kaz tipped some of the dark, bitter liquid into his cup. 

“So, was it a kidnapping or an escape?” Nina asked. She wasn’t sure which scenario was less ideal.

“Pim’s injury was the only sign of a struggle,” Muzzen explained. He reached for a coffee cup of his own. “I’d put my money on an escape- though why she thought that was necessary is beyond me.”

“Annaye was never a reliable source of information,” Kaz interjected, picking up his coffee. He downed it like a shot of liquor, slamming the mug back down on the counter. “I didn’t trust her; she didn’t trust me. We expected nothing from each other. I lost an informant, but now she runs a risk of losing her life. That was her choice.”

Nina felt a sense of unquellable rage at that. “Was it your intent to let Inej and Jesper die like blind livestock wandering to slaughter?” she demanded. “You sent them to the Stronghold, more dangerous and brutal than anything both of us have ever known, based on information you knew was unlikely to be accurate?”

“I took precautions,” he answered vaguely. 

“Precautions,” she spat. “This plan of yours is more reckless than anything I’ve ever seen. If they die down there, Kaz, I hope you regret it forever. I hope your guilt makes you suffer.”

“They’re going to survive,” Kaz growled. “Have you abandoned all rational thought, Nina? I wouldn’t send them to the Stronghold in the first place if I thought they had no chance of survival at all.”

“I think you would, actually. You already did.” Kaz glared at her. “I know you care more about money than people, Kaz. Maybe Inej and Jesper are just… a means of profit for you, but I’m not like that.” 

“I’m not responsible for your frustrations, Zenik. Nor your forgiveness, or your guilt. Sort yourself out and stop wasting my time.” He shoved past her, heading for the main room.

Muzzen whistled. “Damn,” he said appreciatively. “Fighting the boss man. Consider me impressed.”

“I’ll fight him any day,” Nina muttered. It came out rather pathetically, all the heat of her anger suddenly lost to exhaustion and fear and dread. “That son of a-”

“Alright then,” Muzzen cut her off. “Remind me never to cross you. I didn’t know you had an edge.” Laughing to himself, he strolled out of the kitchen.

Now alone in the kitchen, Nina fought down the urge to throw something, directing her anger onto useless objects. It was all too much constant worry, and the feeling of those corpses in the classroom still clung to her incessantly, reminding her of _parem_ , the exhilarating feel of it, and the way her powers had deteriorated. 

Nina swore violently. That made her feel better, if only slightly. She wandered into the main room, throwing herself on one of the more comfortable couches.

She let her eyes drift shut. If sleep was able to come to her, Nina was glad to welcome it, and could only hope for a dreamless rest.

~--~

The room was bright with afternoon sunshine when Nina awoke suddenly, a crick in her neck from sleeping on the couch at an odd angle.

She’d slept for a surprisingly long time. It was past midmorning now, and Nina hoped nothing new had happened while she was sleeping since the brief clamor from last night.

Passively, Nina wondered what happened to Annaye. If the woman had indeed given them false information, if Inej and Jesper were dead and dying because of it… well, Nina found that she didn’t particularly care if Annaye met the same fate herself.

It was a cruel thought, but also a resolving one. Nina was, quite frankly, exhausted from worrying about them so much. She just wanted it to stop; selfishly, petulantly, she needed them both home and safe. 

She heard a door open down the hall. Nina craned her neck and saw that it was Roeder entering Kaz’s office. Curious, she stood, trying to pet her hair down into something presentable. She followed Roeder’s path, knocking lightly on Kaz’s office door. If something had happened, she wanted to know about it.

“Come in.” Anika’s voice, not Kaz. Nina stepped inside, making sure the door was shut, and surveyed the room.

“A Fire Fliers messenger just approached me in the street,” Roeder was saying. He extended a folded paper message to Kaz, which was plucked from Roeder’s fingers. Kaz quickly unfolded the page, scanning it.

“Anything of note?” Nina asked.

Kaz glanced up distractedly before returning his focus to the paper. “Prenten wants to meet,” he muttered. “Midnight on the Zentsbridge. Eight days.”

“I wonder what they’re waiting for,” Anika pondered.

“Nothing good, surely.” Kaz refolded the note, handing it back to Roeder. “Head south. Wait for Jesper to return- give this to him when he arrives, and tell him it’s urgent. I want him there with me to confront Prenten.”

“Need a good sharpshooter?” Anika asked.

“Yes. And perhaps someone less willing to kill Prenten on sight. Whatever he wants, I won’t be so cordial. Jesper is more open to negotiation, forgiving as he is.” Kaz didn’t say it like that was a positive attribute- though in this case, it was certainly a useful one. 

“What if Jesper and Inej don’t make it back by then?” Nina asked.

Kaz’s answering grin was half-feral, more a baring of teeth than an actual smile. “Then Prenten will find himself in even poorer company.”

Nina felt the same. How long could Inej and Jesper, along with Keeg, be missing until they were presumed dead? Kaz would react horribly; that anger would be taken out spectacularly on the Fire Fliers boss during this strange meeting that had been planned. 

And Nina knew she herself would raise hell if Jesper and Inej failed to make it back home. She let herself hope, and with a heavy, internal sigh, set a mental countdown until the meeting in eight days time. 

All she could do was wait to see if it was the Fire Fliers or her friends that first won the race against the clock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was sponsored by my personal loathing for wearing dresses (which i refuse to read into), my overuse of murder as a plot point, and my dumb wlw brain, which thought "what if anika and nina were girlfriends👁👄👁" while outlining the chapter  
> also i have been waiting for this moment for TOO LONG- i love the coming three chapters (as anyone following my convoluted end notes knows). i am HYPED. i am so energized right now.. is this what mentally stable people feel like every day ???? incredible  
> also uh.. writing about jesper's horrible (spectacular) fashion made me remember the shadow and bone netflix show :/ i'll be honest- i wish i could say I'm excited for it but I'm honestly just scared.  
> also i just had a really funny thought- ik kaz brought a lot of younger members into the dregs, but there have to still be some older members, right? i wonder how they feel about this angry nineteen year old being their boss.. lmfao why is that so funny  
> anyway that's a whole nother rant and these notes are long enough- i'll see you (my omnipresent audience) very soon !


	13. 13 ~ Jesper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesper awakes in the farmhouse. Tekke, the Healer, and her companion search for answers. Soon the crows return to the city, where Prenten and all the danger he brings is waiting; everything goes terribly wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i fr meant to have this chapter done at least three days ago.. it's been six since i updated?! smh. in my defense i started hyperfixating on like three things at once a few days ago, and I've been developing an original novel... so oops lol i had to put this project to the side for a bit  
> still tho :/ i'm annoyed with myself :// this chapter is so rushed lmao and very unedited.. i just want to sleep so the undoubtedly many errors are wholly my fault  
> anyway! i don't want to say I've had part of this chapter written for nine months... but i did indeed write part of it allllll the way back in march. this started as a quarantine project ! that feels like a lifetime ago.. and it really took me this long to get to it :/ this fic could probably be complete rn if i hadn't lost interest in it from like april to early june ahah  
> regardless, here is a prenten confrontation among other things. i'm irrationally excited for this part of the plot so i hope it's mildly enjoyable at the very least

Jesper awoke sluggishly, his thoughts moving painfully slow. He was laying on his back, and the low ceiling above him was a white, cracked plaster. “Please don’t tell me I’m in jail,” he said to no one. 

But then someone responded; a low, dry chuckle sounded from somewhere to his right. “We’re definitely not in jail.”

He knew that voice- Inej. Jesper turned his head, keeping his movements slow, head still feeling vague and fuzzy. 

It was Inej sitting there, just as he’d known, poised in a straight-back wooden chair that looked dreadfully uncomfortable. Jesper felt the mattress he was lying on with his hand. The fabric was slightly scratchy, but the material filling it was soft, much too pleasant for a prison cot. Most of those were metal or stone, designed to maximize pain.

“Are you sure?” Jesper asked anyway. It was more likely than anything that he and Inej had been captured and jailed as they tried to flee from the compound. And there were blanks in his memory, too many missing pieces that needed to be recovered. Jesper could recall the Stronghold; smoke and flashing light and an innocent man shot in the head; a dark forest and blinding pain in his side. He was hazy on the remaining details.

“Look around, Jesper,” Inej said, laughter warming her voice. “We’re not in prison. We escaped that hellish place, I promise you.” 

Jesper craned his neck further as instructed, taking in their surroundings. The bed he laid on was wedged into the corner of the small room, a large and ornate fireplace taking up much of the opposite wall. A fire crackled merrily beneath the mantle, which was adorned with small trinkets and a basket of trimmed lavender. 

There were cabinets lining the adjacent walls, looking to be filled with vials of different shapes and contents. Jesper wondered what they were used for.

“Fair enough, Inej,” he conceded. “You’ve convinced me- this place is definitely not a prison. Nor is it the Stronghold, and certainly not Ketterdam. It’s too clean. So where are we?” 

“A farmhouse, if you’ll believe it.”

“Just like home.” Jesper’s eyes drifted shut before he remembered to keep them open. Why was he slurring his words? He was overcome by a sudden bout of exhaustion, stealing the clarity he’d managed to grasp.

Inej seemed to notice. “It’s alright, Jesper. Lay back. We’re safe, and that’s all that matters.”

He hadn’t even noticed he was struggling to sit up. _I’m not tired_ , Jesper wanted to protest. The words didn’t come. His mouth wasn’t working.

Why did he feel like this? The pain had come from somewhere, but he couldn’t recall what had happened. It was all frustratingly blank. 

“We’re safe,” Inej repeated, more firmly this time. “Sleep, Jesper. Gain back your strength.”

Listlessly, without intending to, Jesper obeyed and fell back into a dreamless sleep.

~--~ 

When he awoke once more, the world was on fire. 

Everything felt hot, painfully so, most of the heat centralized to a spot on his side. Jesper tried to put his hands on it, feeling for a wound or an explanation, but a cool, gentle hand on his wrist stopped him. 

“Wylan?” Jesper mumbled. That wasn’t right. A blurred face hovered above his own- skin a light brown, hair long and dark. Inej, again; he wasn’t sure if Wylan was even in the room.

There was another voice, speaking near his head, which was beaded with sweat that dripped down his face. It was another woman, speaking rapidly to Inej, frantic for a reason Jesper didn’t understand. 

It felt safer to keep his eyes closed. Something was frighteningly wrong, but at the moment Jesper possessed neither the strength nor courage to try and understand what had happened. 

This time, Jesper lost the battle with consciousness before he even realized he was gone.

~--~

Jesper had been here before. A white ceiling above him, cracked and low. The sound and feel of a warm, popping fire. Conversation sounding from the doorway of whatever room he was in.

A farmhouse, Inej had told him. He remembered that, but not how much time had passed since. He’d been asleep, but any memories from before that were lost.

“You’re awake,” someone said. Jesper turned his head to see Inej sitting beside him, hands folded neatly in her lap as she studied him. There was a water basin with a cloth in it set on the side table. “And you seem more aware this time. That’s good.”

“What happened?” Jesper’s voice was croaky. He cleared his throat to try and strengthen it. 

“I’m not sure how much you remember. You… were shot in the side, Jesper, as we fled from the Stronghold. You had a brief moment of lucidity after fading in and out, here on this bed. Then the fever came quickly. Your Healer was worried if you’d survive.”

“A Healer?” Jesper couldn’t recall seeing one. He felt cagy in the presence of most Grisha despite himself, and the fact that one had been in the room without him knowing was disconcerting, to say the least.

If Inej picked up on his apprehension, she didn’t speak of it. “Yes. She saved your life, Jesper.” Then Inej hesitated. She threw herself forward, almost making Jesper jump out of the bed in surprise, and gingerly wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “We survived,” Inej beamed, plopping back in her seat after she released him. The wooden back of the chair creaked in menace. “Thank the Saints that you’re alright.”

“You should be thanking whoever healed me instead,” Jesper mumbled, feeling for the wound at his side. There were several thick layers of cloth bandages covering the injury. “And the Stronghold guard that had shitty aim.”

Someone cleared their throat. Jesper whipped his head to the side and found a small, young woman standing in the doorway. She gave him a little wave. “That would be me. The Healer, of course. Not the, um, ‘shitty’ guard.”

Jesper flashed her a winning smile. The Healer flushed lightly. “This is Tekke,” Inej said. It appeared that she was trying to hold back her laughter.

“Thank you for not letting me die, Tekke,” he said seriously.

Tekke inclined her head. “It was an honor,” she replied. 

“I hope it didn’t spend too much of your strength.” Based on what he could recall, the injury had been brutal. Depending on how skilled and well-trained Tekke was, the effort could have been greatly burdensome. 

“You almost died,” Inej whispered.

“I found you an inch from death,” Tekke agreed with a grim nod. “It took great effort, but I recovered, just as you soon will. I was able to reduce the size of the wound and heal it, for the most part. When it closes fully, there will be a scar, which I can do nothing for.”

“I collect those by the dozen,” Jesper dismissed. “Again, thank you. How can I repay you?”

“With some answers, perhaps,” came a third voice from somewhere behind Tekke. The Healer stepped into the room to allow the woman through. She had graying hair and dark eyes, and surveyed Jesper with a stormy gaze.

Behind her was Keeg, protectively clutching a stachel to his chest. The _fantya_ , Jesper realized. He’d stolen it from the Stronghold lab himself.

“Fahey, you asshole,” Keeg greeted, moving closer to the bed. “I thought for sure you’d bleed out in that coach. Now I owe Dirix and Rotty some _kruge_.”

“You bet on our deaths?” Inej demanded. 

“Damn right, I did.” Inej and Jesper stared at Keeg in mild disgust, prompting him to throw up his hands. “Listen! I didn’t get rich off steep prize money like the two of you all those years back. The rest of us have to get by like normal folk.”

“Once again,” the woman interrupted them. “Your friend promised answers to go with my many questions.”

“Let me put in a few of my own, first,” Jesper challenged. “Inej, you said this was a farmhouse. Who owns it? How long was I out? And how close are we to the city?”

“We’ve been here for almost two days. Close enough, though we do have some ways to travel still. Our boss, Johannus Rietveld, told me about this place.”

“That’s…” Jesper recognized the name instantly. It was the alias Kaz had forced onto his father back in Ketterdam while they were trying to take down Van Eck. 

Jesper had thought the name was merely a fabrication. But Inej had described it strangely; was the name a persona of Kaz’s? Regardless, Tekke and her companion must not know Kaz’s name, so he knew to keep it secret.

Jesper nodded to Inej in understanding. “One last thing,” he said, turning to the older woman. “Can I have your name?”

She observed him stonily, saying nothing. “She doesn’t care to reveal her identity,” Tekke murmured, sounding apologetic. “Not even to me.”

“That’s suspicious.” Jesper answered hesitatingly. “But I’ll take it. Ask your questions, ma’am.” He considered it a fair trade for his survival, as long as the requested information wasn’t anything dire.

“You are fugitives from the Stronghold,” she began, gesturing to the satchel, which Keeg kept secured to his chest. “What do you carry in that bag?”

“How did you know about that?” Inej responded. 

The woman sighed heavily. “I was imprisoned in that monstrous place nearly two decades ago,” she admitted. It seemed to take a great deal of effort to do so. “The Stronghold uses those bags to smuggle their contraband- weapons and drugs alike. Which are in your possession?”

“Drugs,” Inej admitted carefully. 

The woman’s answering smile was rueful. “Just the same as the others, then. I find that now I regret letting you two into our home.”

“Hey, now,” Jesper protested. “We’re not planning to use it on people! Rietveld ordered us to obtain it. The drug has already spread to our city through other means. We’re trying to surpass the competition.” He winced; that still sounded wildly unethical. There truly was no positive light in which the situation could be framed. 

“Tell us how you know of Johannus Rietveld,” Inej requested, staring at the woman thoughtfully. She’d twisted in her chair to keep eyes on everyone at once.

The woman’s face darkened. “I knew him in another life. I have not seen him for many years.”

“Johannus Rietveld saved me from death,” Tekke piped up from the corner. “I was living in the north, new to a city named Ketterdam. I’m not sure if you’re familiar.”

“We are,” Jesper laughed. “But please, continue.”

Tekke nodded. “I was hiding out near the Ravkan Embassy. A man- wicked, cruel as they come- discovered me and my abilities. He cornered me on the street. Tried to steal me away. Then Johannus Rietveld approached, scaring away my assailant. Without him, I would have been harmed or even killed.”

It was a strangely heroic gesture. Jesper couldn’t help but wonder if it had truly been Kaz that Tekke encountered. 

“Then he asked me about my abilities,” Tekke finished. “Questioned how good of a Healer I was. However he’d learned of that, I was too frightened to ask. But he made no moves to kill or enslave me, and found a place for me here with the promise that I would aid him or any of his allies if the time came.” 

There was the Kaz Jesper knew, always playing an angle. It was an interesting failsafe, one that admittedly saved Jesper’s life. 

“Inej, you said the same man rescued you,” Tekke spoke. “Is that a story you might share?” Jesper supposed it was a reasonable question, based on the way they’d all been brought together.

Inej did not feel the same. She went very still, and it was as if a shadow crossed over her eyes, gaze turning dark and cold. “No,” she said.

Tekke frowned. “You told me-”

“No,” Inej repeated firmly. “I won’t.” Tekke pressed her back against the wall, maximizing the distance between them.

Jesper clapped his hands together. He struggled to sit up fully. “Well!” he said. Keeg was watching Inej carefully with a thoughtful frown. Tekke and the woman looked more wary. “Is it safe for me to travel in this state?”

Takke turned her focus to Jesper. “I’ll check over your injury for safety’s sake,” she said. “But you’re no longer in danger of bleeding out.”

“Good,” Jesper said with a nod. It was a struggle to shift himself so that he was sitting up, feet planted on the floor, but he managed. Tekke approached him, carefully unbinding the cloth that protected his injured side. 

The wound was smaller than he’d expected, but oozed a surprising amount of blood. Tekke wiped it away with a stray cloth tucked into her belt, then rewrapped the bandages. “Keep those on,” she ordered. “Don’t exert yourself. Rest as frequently as you can.”

“With the life I lead, that never lasts for long,” Jesper warned her.

“Then you can run the risk of bleeding out. That’ll stay on your conscience, not mine.”

Jesper chuckled. “Can’t have much of a conscience if I’m dead.”

“He won’t die,” Inej cut in. “I’ll make sure of it.”

“I appreciate it, Inej, I truly do, but you don’t have to worry about me.” There was ultimately nothing she could do for him, anyway. 

Inej offered a hand. He allowed her to pull him up from the bed, even if the gesture was unneeded. “I’ll always worry,” she said. “It comes with the job. And I nearly lost you just days ago.”

Jesper briefly slung an easy arm around her shoulders. He practically had to bend over to do so. “I’m here now,” he tried to console. “Safe as can be. I bet I could run outside and work the fields!” he said with a laugh. “Though we really should get back. Personally, I’d like to put as much distance between us and the Stronghold as possible.”

“Can’t argue with that,” said Keeg. “Let’s get outta here. This house has no liquor, and I need a good drink.”

“I don’t drink,” Tekke said.

“You should,” Keeg replied. She wrinkled her nose in disgust. 

“Do you need supplies for your return home?” the older woman asked warily, ending her silent observance of all their conversations. She still seemed partially reluctant to help them. 

Inej glanced at Keeg. “Thank you. I think we’ll be alright.” Keeg nodded in confirmation. He’d brought a pack of his own that carried their rations and non-weapon supplies.

Jesper followed the two of them to the doorway, stepping into a hallway with wood-panel walls. The other end of the narrow walkway opened up to an entry hall, its front doors adorned with decorative panes of glass. It was a nice house, Jesper thought, similar to the one he’d grown up in.   
“Perhaps we will meet again,” Tekke was saying. The three of them stood near the front door, but the Healer remained by the banister, hovering on the bottom step. 

“Maybe someday,” Inej murmured. With nothing more needed to bid Tekke and her companion farewell, Jesper stepped outside, the others following him. Keeg started out for the coach, murmuring something about retrieving the horses, which Jesper assumed had been brought to the stable on the grounds.

“Inej,” the older woman called, stopping them on the porch. She turned around, and Jesper did the same. “I lost my family long ago to the deadly workings of the Stronghold. Whatever you intend to use the drugs in your possession for… I hope you will not ruin more families, more lives.” 

With that grim request in mind, Jesper turned back to walk toward the carriage, ready to leave this place behind and return home. He didn’t hear Inej’s response, nor did he need to. He was too focused, now, on figuring out what the hell Kaz had planned with the vials of _fantya_ they’d secured.

It couldn’t be good, whatever Kaz was scheming; whatever the Fire Fliers had already done. Then again, nothing was good or right, not right now.

Jesper sighed to himself. He climbed into the carriage and waited for Inej, for their return to Ketterdam, for the time to come home and see Wylan so that he could finally feel at peace once more.

~--~ 

“So Kaz told you about that farmhouse,” Jesper said. They’d both boarded the carriage, Keeg reclaiming the driver’s seat to direct the horses. The sun had barely begun to set as they pulled onto the main road, leaving the Rietveld farm behind.

The horses were traveling slowly, with much more fatigue than on the initial journey south despite their time to rest on the farm. The poor things had probably been run ragged. They dragged the carriage sluggishly along the dirt path.

“Indeed,” Inej replied. “Without that knowledge… Jesper, you surely would have died.”

“Then I’ll have to thank the bastard when we get back to Ketterdam, right after I have a word with Annaye about her little slip-up.” That missing detail about the guards stationed at the mountain pass could have cost them their lives. It truly had been luck, a slip of fate, that kept him and Inej alive and relatively unscathed.

“She had just escaped the horrors of that prison, Jesper. I know I wouldn’t be thinking straight. Perhaps she forgot to inform us of the additional guards.”

Inej’s forgiveness seemed unattainable to Jesper. He was sympathetic for what Annaye had gone through in the Stronghold, of course. But the deaths and injuries that occurred in the mountains could have easily been Inej or Keeg, even himself. That wasn’t something he could just let go of. 

Ketterdam had taken the parts of Jesper that were trusting, kind. Sabotage was common on the streets; it was much too easy. Self-preservation was the only realistic means of survival. But at what cost?

Jesper mulled over that as the sky dipped from orange to midnight blue. The moon was full, shining bright over the farmlands, illuminating the city skyline in the distance. Ketterdam was almost upon them, every hour bringing the city closer.

Soon the farmlands faded away, small houses and green fields becoming taverns and shops on either side of the road. “We made it,” Inej whispered, face pressed against the window like a little girl visiting the city for the first time.

“I never thought I’d miss this place,” Jesper admitted, even though they’d barely been gone for a week. It was truer than he’d ever realized; as much as Jesper loved the city, there was pain here, suffering of the highest order. Perhaps that was part of Ketterdam’s dark charm, its destructive nature.

Eventually Keeg pulled the carriage to a halt, not two streets over from the Stohmler estate, from which they’d initially stolen the coach. One of the horses threw its head back, hooves dancing against the cobblestones in agitation. Jesper pressed a soothing hand to the animal’s mane, its hair coarse beneath his fingertips. 

Then a dark figure dropped onto the street from the rooftops above, and Jesper had his gun trained on their assailant in an instant, hammer pressed back and his finger hovering on the trigger.

“Hold!” the figure cried. He pulled his hood down. It was Roeder, hand lifted to stop Jesper from shooting. 

“Saints!” Jesper said, putting his weapon away. “I nearly shot you.”

“Of which I’m painfully aware.” Roeder gave Inej a nod, which she returned.

Keeg clambered down from the coach, brushing off his pants. He heartily clapped the Spider on the back. 

“Well, Roeder!” Jesper greeted properly. For this situation at least, words were better than weapons. “No party for us? No grand event to commemorate our miraculous survival?”

“I guess we’ll have to save the theatrics for when Kaz isn’t the boss,” Roeder laughed. “Speaking of which, he told me to give this to you.” Roeder passed him a paper note. 

Jesper unfolded it. _I write you, Kaz Brekker, with a request_ , it read. _Meet me at midnight on the Zentsbridge in eight days time. Cordially, Mister Prenten._

“Kaz wants me there with him?” Jesper asked. Inej peered at the letter from his side, reading over it quickly. 

“Yes,” Roeder answered. 

“And when was this delivered?”

“Eight days ago, incidentally,” Roeder said with a wince. 

Jesper laughed incredulously. “What was Kaz planning to do if I died in the south, or if we arrived late?” He glanced up at the Elderclock, which towered over the surrounding buildings. “Midnight is less than three hours from now!”

“He would raise hell on the boss, I suppose. But that doesn’t matter. You’re here now, both of you.” Roeder grinned slyly at Keeg. “Dirix and Rotty will be happy to hear they survived.”

“Yes, please. Keep making profit from our livelihood,” Jesper joked. “Anyway! Gentlemen, lady, I should head for the Zentsbridge and meet Kaz before Prenten shows up.” The bridge bordered the Financial District, meaning he’d have to be extremely cautious to avoid the well-trained eye of the _stadwatch_ who patrolled there. 

“I’ll escort Keeg to the Slat,” Inej said, glancing at the satchel of drugs Keeg still held. “And ensure our newly acquired goods reach Anika safely.”

“What’s in the bag?” Roeder asked.

Jesper glanced around.”Perhaps we shouldn’t discuss that here on the streets.”

“Fair enough,” Roeder said. “After Jesper and Kaz return, we can commune, and the two of you can share what you learned from your, ah, travels.”

“Agreed,” said Inej. 

“Guard Keeg with your life,” Jesper told her seriously. It served as a farewell, one Inej returned with a small smile. 

Keeg shoved him. “I’m well capable of handling myself. Wraith, let’s go.” They disappeared into the shadows, Inej slipping a protective dagger into her hand, and then they were out of sight.

~--~

Kaz stood on the Zentsbridge, a lone figure in the dark. Overhead, the Elderclock chimed; a quarter to midnight.

The streets were quiet, nearly devoid of all pedestrians. Even passing guards were scarce. Jesper had chosen a canalboat, valuing speed over safety. Since leaving Roeder behind in the southern part of the city, Jesper kept to the narrow boat, stooping low to keep his face concealed.

He gestured to the rower, who directed the boat to the edge of the waterway, gradually stopping it. Jesper quickly passed a small bill to the young man for his service, then climbed from the boat, hurrying down the street to reach Kaz.

He was perched against the rail of the bridge, hands folded over his cane, staring out at the water. Kaz had buttoned his dark coat up to his throat, and the old black gloves covered his hands. He was the picture of restraint, perfectly playing the role of a reserved mercher and not a street boss.

Jesper felt painfully underdressed by his own personal standards, still wearing the dark clothes he’d chosen to discreetly infiltrate the Stronghold. He ignored the feeling as he stepped onto the bridge, standing beside Kaz, who said nothing to him.

“Surprised to see me alive?” Jesper asked, trying to break the heavy silence.

Kaz didn’t even blink. “No,” he merely said. 

“I am,” Jesper replied. “They shot me, you know. I was almost killed, but your stowaways at the Rietveld farm saved my life.”

“Placing Tekke there was a worthwhile choice. What should I know of the Stronghold before Prenten arrives?”

Straight to business, then. “Erijer Prenten bought a massive shipment of _fantya_ directly from the Stronghold. Inej obtained the financial records.”

Kaz’s forehead creased. “That shouldn’t be possible,” he said. “Is Inej sure-”

“She brought the records with her. You can check them yourself.” Then, because Jesper thought Kaz would want to know, he said “Inej is completely safe and unharmed, in case you were wondering. Or if you were just too afraid to ask.”

Before Kaz could hit him with a snide response to that, a figure stepped into view from further down the street. As he came closer, the streetlamps illuminated his face. It was undeniably Prenten, even though Jesper had never seen him before. The boss was clad in a maroon coat, approaching them with purpose in his step.

Kaz left the rail and stood in the center of the bridge. Jesper quickly followed. Behind Prenten, initially concealed by his bulky form, was a woman who walked with just as much arrogance. He recognized her. It took a moment, but Jesper realized they’d seen her on the streets weeks ago. She had taunted them, childish and mean, giving them the name of the Fire Fliers’ gang. Kaz likely knew her face as well.

“Mister Brekker,” Prenten greeted. “We meet again.”

Again? Jesper thought. He should have taken the time to catch up on everything he and Inej had missed while they were traveling. 

Kaz stared at him, unimpressed. “Prenten.” 

“Thank you for meeting me. We have important matters to discuss.”

“I didn’t expect to meet you again, after our conversation at the Crow Club. I considered you properly humiliated.”

Prenten frowned at that. “Pride. It’s an interesting thing, one that has little place on these streets.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more. Which is why I’ll grant you a single opportunity, here, before I force you to grovel. What the hell do you want?”

“I do enjoy how you bring out the ruthless side of business, Mister Brekker. It’s refreshing. I wanted to speak with you about some of the more intimate workings of this city.”

“This is now the second time you’ve come to me for information. Care to share whatever it is you’re so desperate to learn?”

Prenten’s answering grin was razor-sharp. “I prefer to dance around truths, skirt the edges of facts. Information is… delicate. It requires careful extraction. I know your stores of it are near-endless.”

“And well-guarded.”

“Indeed. You play your games carefully, I must admit. You have close knowledge and careful accesses to parts of this city hidden from the public eye. I merely wish to share that knowledge. I believe it would benefit us both.”

Jesper’s mind raced as he tried to put the pieces together. Prenten had already met with Kaz, desperate for something Kaz hadn’t chosen to divulge, whether intentionally or not. Prenten seemed reluctant to ask him flat-out. There was a delicate game at play here, one that had reached an uneasy stalemate, and Jesper feared Kaz did not possess the upper hand.

“I refuse to tell you anything,” Kaz said with a rough laugh. “We’re finished, Prenten. Stop wasting my time.”

“It would be in your best interests to hear me out,” Prenten warned him.

“You have nothing to offer me.” Kaz turned in the opposite direction, leaving Prenten behind. Jesper watched his back, anticipating a violent move or a quick, cowardly shot. Kaz was acting indifferent, which Jesper understood well, but he also seemed worryingly careless. 

“No mourners, no funerals,” Prenten mused loudly, enunciating the words, playing with them in his mouth; a final attempt to ensnare Kaz’s attention. “That’s your little catchphrase in the Dregs, isn’t it? I wonder how that mindset would hold up when Dirtyhands discovers the whereabouts of his lovely little Wraith.”

Kaz went very, very still. He turned around to stare at Prenten with dark, cold eyes. “What do you mean.” 

“The Wraith, yes,” he pondered. “The ghost of Ketterdam. She was very difficult to capture. As it turns out, though, even shadows can wear shackles.”

Kaz gripped the head of his cane so tightly his knuckles whitened. “You’re bluffing,” he snapped. Though Jesper knew his tone- the difference was subtle, but Kaz normally sounded a hundred times more confident during a parley like this. There was arrogance in his voice, if one knew to look for it. Here it was nowhere to be found. 

“Am I?” Prenten asked, his smug smirk infuriating. Jesper wanted to shoot all his teeth out. “I don’t know about you, Mister Brekker, but I’ve never been much of a gambler. Are you willing to bet on those odds?”

Kaz laughed, the sound scratchy and cold, relaxing his grip on the crowhead of his cane. “Yes, I am. I’ll divulge this little fantasy, for your sake. Suppose you do have the Wraith. What, of value, could you possibly offer me in exchange for the release of just one member of the Dregs?”

“‘Just one,’ hm? I thought you’d have more loyalty, Mister Brekker, to one of your own. In exchange for the Wraith, I want access to all your records, intel and financials. You will tell me every single scrap of information I wish to learn from you, on my terms.”

“Never,” Kaz scoffed at the outlandish request. He didn’t truly believe the Fire Fliers had Inej, then. Well enough; Inej was not someone you should make a habit of doubting. But something here seemed wrong to Jesper. He had faith in Inej, of course. He would never know for sure, but it was more than likely that she was perched on a rooftop or ledge above their heads after escorting Keeg, knives drawn and readied for some secret signal Kaz hadn’t chosen to divulge. 

Though if that were the case, why did Kaz seem so tense?

“Very well, then. If that’s your final answer. I suppose I’ll retreat for some quality time with the little Wraith. I’ve been considering which method is best to use on her. She doesn’t have any tattoos on her, as far as I can see. She bears no cup and crow. Maybe I should look a little closer, and give her a mark of my own, branding her a Flier. Or shall I start with burning the rubber soles of her shoes to her feet, Mister Brekker? She would never walk again, I’m sure, and the Dregs would no longer have their Wraith.”

Jesper tightened his grip on his pistols. Inej lived in the shadows; she was untraceable and untouchable when she wanted to be, even with Keeg at her side. There was almost no way for Prenten to know such minute details about her, unless… the Fire Fliers had gotten to her after the two of them split up. Unless Inej truly was being held and tortured somewhere, or prepared for death.

He felt ill.

Quick as a bullet, Kaz was in Prenten’s space, barely an inch of cobblestones separating their shoes. “Tell me where you have her,” he growled. Kaz was short enough in comparison to Prenten that the standoff would have been comical, if not for the crazed, angry light in Kaz’s eyes.

“I gave you my terms, Brekker. All the information you possess on this city, in exchange for the girl. I have other business affairs to attend to this evening, so please. Be brisk in making your decision. If my sources are correct, your peculiar brand of mercy leaves you with only one path forward.” 

Jesper didn’t like the sound of that. Clearly, neither did Kaz.

By the time Prenten reached for his own weapon, Kaz had already brought the head of his cane up, shifting it to grip the middle as he rammed it into Prenten’s jaw with one smooth movement. Then Kaz brought it back down, slamming the tip into his knee. Prenten dropped like a stone, one hand scrabbling at the blood leaking from his mouth and the other gripping his busted leg. 

Kaz stepped back, then, looking cruel and composed save the hand trembling on his cane. The tip of it came down to rest on Prenten’s heaving chest, directly over his heart. 

“You have some options, here,” Kaz said slowly. “One- I stab my stick through your heart and leave you here, dying slowly as you choke on your own blood.”

Prenten moaned in pain. His second, the strange woman, did nothing at all. She watched her boss twitch on the ground impassively. 

“Two,” Kaz continued, his tone eerily quiet, as he jabbed the cane further into Prenten’s burgundy coat. “I force you to give up the location, and dump you in the harbor for your trouble. Three, you lead me straight to the Wraith, and let her watch me burn the Fire Fliers to the ground. The choice is yours, Prenten. Take a gamble. Play your cards correctly.”

“Alright! Alright,” Prenten sobbed, all his bravado gone, leaving a coward trembling on the ground. “There’s a warehouse on the corner of Merinstraat with scorch marks on the front door. That’s where she is! Six of my men are guarding her on the second floor.”

“Good,” Kaz said, still holding the cane in place. “If you’re lying to me, Prenten, I will hunt you down, cut out your tongue and stuff it down your throat. Do you understand?”

Prenten groaned. Kaz jerked his cane. “Answer me.”

“Yes!” he cried. “I do, I’m sorry, please let me go.”

Kaz smiled. It was one of the most terrifying things Jesper had ever witnessed. “No.” Kaz shifted the cane to bring it straight down through the back of Prenten’s left hand, the one that had reached for his gun. He would never shoot again with an injury like that.

Next Kaz crouched down and gripped the man’s fingers, glove-clad hands crunching the joints one by one. Every snap of bone brought a new scream, echoing off the surrounding buildings. 

The commotion had gathered an audience- many stray pedestrians stared, transfixed by the violence. _Let them watch_ , Jesper thought grimly. _Let them witness what happens when you try to outsmart Dirtyhands._

Kaz stood smoothly, delivering one last kick for good measure. He started down the street with impressive speed, not looking back once, heading in the direction of the given location. “Dump him in the harbor,” he instructed Jesper, already moving past as he spoke. “Or a canal. Easier for the _stadwatch_ to find.”

Jesper followed despite the order. “Kaz, no,” Jesper tried. “You need to slow down. It could still be a trap. Who knows what’s waiting for you at that address! We need backup, and a plan.”

“To hell with planning!” Kaz snarled, whirling around to face Jesper. In less bleak circumstances Jesper would summon another witness to hear those words come out of Kaz Brekker’s mouth. “I don’t know what they’ve done to her. I’ll be damned before I let them hurt Inej. I’m going to make the Fire Fliers pay.”

“They’ll kill you,” Jesper snapped. If it were any other day Kaz would’ve had his head for using that tone. But Kaz had clearly abandoned all reason, so Jesper needed to force him to see logic. “Come back to the Slat. We’ll contact some of the other Dregs and attack with more force. That’ll better our chances of getting Inej home safe, Kaz.”

“There’s no time,” Kaz said, eyes flashing. He continued to walk away.

Jesper was desperate. He drew his pistol on Kaz. “I will shoot you in the leg if you don’t stop and use your damn brain to think!” he yelled.

Kaz froze, turning back again with deadly slowness. His gaze was dull and cruel, the way it sometimes went when he retreated into the darkest corners of his mind. “You will not,” he hissed, every syllable dripping with venom, with hatred so potent it made Jesper immediately shove the pistol back in his pocket, stroking the pearl handle once for good luck. He knew he’d made an irredeemable mistake. “You will not hurt me, because if you keep me from Inej I will tear you apart and force you to spend every last moment of your pathetic existence in misery.”

“Fine,” Jesper said, crossing his arms. If he was already in deep shit, he might as well roll in it. “Go ahead! You’re not the only one who needs Inej to come home safe, Kaz. And if putting you out of action is what it’s going to take to prevent both of you from being killed, then that’s fine. I don’t give a damn what you do to me.”

“You won’t shoot me,” Kaz said quietly. “You wouldn’t dare. Instead, you’re going back to the Slat. Bring Anika and Pim, then meet me at the location Prenten gave up. I’ll get there first to make sure his men don't slit Inej’s throat. We’ll meet and burn the Fire Fliers to the ground. Do you understand?”

It was as good a compromise as any. “Yes,” Jesper conceded. “It’s a deal, Brekker.” 

Kaz didn’t respond. He merely slipped away, the only evidence of his presence the hurried clack of his cane against stones. 

How had Inej been captured so quickly? The Fire Fliers must have eyes everywhere, if they were able to track down Inej and Keeg, restrain her, and bring her to the location. All in the span of three hours. 

Jesper didn’t dare to think about what they might do to her. Or what fate was waiting for Keeg, who’d been transporting the _fantya_. Or what the Fire Fliers might do with the chance to add more of the drugs to their formidable supply. 

Jesper wasted only a second hesitating before he took off, heading further south than Kaz had. The address Prenten revealed was close to the Anvil and the White Rose. Jesper would need to cut north after gathering the others at the Slat. 

The logistics of it all were a mess. He didn’t have time to figure out if his team would arrive too late to get Inej and Kaz out. 

That meant they were riding on hope. Jesper didn’t need Kaz there to know what he’d say to that- optimism has no place in the Barrel, and if you hold onto hope, it’ll get knocked out of you by a bullet from another street rat’s gun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAHA does it seem like I'm incessantly regurgitating Leigh's own plot points in a different light? very possibly. but consider this- inej is kaz's weakness. we all know that. everyone in ketterdam knows that by now, surely. and, as it will soon be unfolded, jan van eck is certainly not the first and last person to learn about and exploit that weakness... plus it's a tragic romance plot point! "protecting the lover in peril and going crazy to do so" etc etc. we all love tropes, even if we hate to admit it.  
> i have an interesting backstory for the unnamed woman at the farm. this fic will have a sequel (whenever the hell i get around to that) or at least a collection of side stories to expand on some lore and tie up plot holes, and i already know where i want to take that character   
> anyway i bet half the people reading this can guess what will happen next. and i still feel so bad about taking six days on this chapter, which is why *drumroll* the next chapter is going to be up tomorrow! crazy, isn't it. the chapter is brief so it'll be quick to write, and i just need to modify parts of the draft  
> so see you then (: goodbye


	14. 14 ~ Inej

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inej has been captured by the Fire Fliers, and soon learns something that will threaten to destroy her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's the end of part 2!!! I've posted a third of this fic!!!!!  
> this chapter fought me a lot.. idk it just felt off writing it. i did edit it though! and reading it back, it's actually fine, I'm just dramatic (except for the end portion of this chapter. i love it tbh)  
> eh whatever, I'm excited for this one regardless!!!! it's the shortest yet but very crucial to the whole next part and i am just,,, idk, i'm allowed to be excited about my own fanfiction lmfao

Inej was trapped in the darkness, light and sound blocked out. She had no idea where she was.

The Fire Fliers had her bound and gagged, heavy manacles weighing down her wrists and ankles. There were pieces of fabric tightly wound around her hands, which formed useless fists, so that she could not possibly attempt to pick the locks on the cuffs and escape. A hood wrapped around her head, tight as the restrictive gloves, to obscure her eyes, ears and mouth. 

She could barely hear, much less move in any significant way. It was impossible to tell where they were keeping Inej, either. There was a small airhole in the fabric near her mouth, but it was less than adequate, and each exhale came in shallow pants as she tried to keep her consciousness, her ability to breathe, steady.

Inej didn’t know what to do. She and Keeg had been not three streets away from Roeder and Jesper when the Fire Fliers jumped them; thirteen gang members, all with guns, surrounding them in an instant.

She should have anticipated them. She did not. It was as if all the Fire Fliers had materialized suddenly, emerging from some hiding place even Inej had yet to discover.

What could she do, now? No one would come for Inej; no one knew of her location, not even herself. One of the Fire Fliers, a bird tattoo scrawled on his neck, had decked Keeg in the face as Inej threw her first knife at another. Then a warning shot had been fired, and Keeg heaved himself up and ran, escaping with the precious, newly-stolen _fantya_. 

The Fire Fliers had enough of a supply already, based on the financial records taken from the Stronghold. The Dregs deserved their share, even if they’d obtained a smaller portion; the Fire Fliers’ advantage needed to be reduced in whatever minimal way. 

She knew returning to the Stronghold was impossible now. Inej and Jesper could never survive twice. The Dregs would be better off if Jesper had been able to steal more than one satchel of _fantya_ , or if the Stronghold scientist hadn’t been shot. But they could work with what they had. 

Inej hoped Keeg was safe, that he’d managed to reach the Slat alone and secure the drugs with Anika. She also prayed that, whatever altercation with Erijer Prenten Kaz and Jesper were facing, they weren’t harmed. 

After Keeg had fled, the Fire Fliers overpowered her quickly. Inej was more than adequate in a fight, but there had simply been too many guns trained on her to evade without backup. Inej had used her knives, managing to incapacitate two of the Fliers, but their numbers were too great. Thirteen against one was favorable for no one.

There was a bite of shame Inej couldn’t quell as she considered the events of her capture, which had occurred at least two hours previously. She had been exhausted due to the journey to and from the Stronghold. Seeing Ketterdam once more had robbed her of caution and all sense; Inej let herself be swept away by a comfort Ketterdam offered only the barest shadow of.

No one was safe in this city. Now Inej was paying the price for forgetting that.

It was a matter of timing, Inej thought, trying to dismiss the irrational blow to her pride. On most nights, she would have been invisible, and the Fire Fliers could never have even gotten close. Before they even attempted to restrain her, Inej would have been on the rooftop, running from her captors with feet like wings. But now she was trapped, tied down in the darkness, through no fault but her own.

Kaz was undoubtedly going to laugh when she told him about this predicament. 

Now Inej simply needed to plan her escape. Her arms and legs were each cuffed together, but she shuffled around as best she could, trying to feel for the space she was confined in. Her left shoulder brushed a wall, but there seemed to be nothing on her other side. Stretching her legs out, she felt a concrete floor beneath her feet, and an adjacent wall. They’d thrown her in a corner, then. The chains binding her legs caught, likely bolted to the floor to prevent her from fleeing.

Inej tested the strength of the chains, causing them to sway and clink. She froze. The vibration of footsteps against the floor approached her.

“Don’t struggle, now,” came a voice. A man’s deep baritone, spoken so close to her ear she could practically feel his lips through the heavy fabric of the hood. Inej shuddered against her will.

“Boss told us not ta tie her up too much or nothin’,” another man drawled, his words slightly more muffled. He was standing further away. “Said the demon boy would torture us all if there’s even a speck o’ damage on his girl.”

Inej fought the urge to scoff or tell the men off. As if she belonged to anyone. They’d gagged her anyway, thick cloth stuffed between her teeth and resting on her tongue. She couldn’t spit it out because of the hood. 

“I know that, you idiot,” the first man replied. “If she hurts herself, we’ll take the fall. You know how boss gets. Everything perfect, everything his way.”

Inej tracked their conversation as best she could. They had to know she was awake; perhaps they were simply dumb, choosing to speak of such things in front of a prisoner.

Footsteps from one of the men faded away. Inej counted his strides, but she wasn’t sure if he’d fully retreated to the other end of the room they were in, or stopped halfway. The first gang member who’d approached her stayed, lingering at Inej’s side. She wished she could push him away, but she was powerless in a way both frustrating and terrifying.

A door opened from somewhere. Inej tilted her head, straining to overhear the conversation. The newest voice was barely audible, likely a woman, her words even more muffled than the others’. 

“We need to let the girl go,” came the command.

“Why?” another asked.

“The boss just sent his orders. We can’t handle both of them, and you know what needs to happen here. She’s disposable, so get rid of her, and quickly.”

There was another prisoner? Inej didn’t understand. She went cold with dread as a rough hand gripped her upper arm, pulling her into a standing position. The chain bolting her shackles to the floor was unlocked, and Inej was dragged forward, feet faltering underneath her.

They are going to kill me, Inej realized.

Her captor slammed a door open, then dragged her through it. Cold air hit Inej’s face through the tiny breathing hole in the fabric she’d been given, as well as the skin on her arms unprotected by tattered sleeves. She was still in her traveling clothes from the Stronghold.

Somewhere, the Elderclock chimed. Inej could hear the faint sound of lighthearted conversation below, and the steady rush of canal water.

They were on a roof. The Fire Fliers could have shot her inside, where it was dark and hidden. Instead, Inej knew, they were going to push her off the roof. Depending on the height of the drop below, Inej would die instantly, or shatter her legs for good. Or, perhaps, plummet directly into the canal and drown, weighed down by her chains.

What could she do? It would have been easier for the Fire Fliers to shoot her and leave her to bleed. But Inej supposed this fall would appear to be an accident or a suicide; a poor girl that lost her balance and fell to the cobblestones below.

Then the Fire Fliers could be assigned no blame, and they wouldn’t even need to dispose of her body. Inej wondered which gang’s territory they were in. Whoever owned this building, they might be accused for her death, but likely not. 

Finally, the Flier drew a gun; Inej heard it click, and the barrel was briefly pressed against her spine as a warning. “Not a single move,” the man threatened. “Or I’ll make your death even more painful.”

Then he withdrew a key, inserting it into the lock keeping her wrist cuffs secured, briskly detaching them. Staging her death for certain, then. No self-respecting _stadwatch_ would believe she’d simply fallen from this roof if she was in chains.

Oh, the poor fools.

Inej maintained an air of complacency, counting her breaths and keeping them even. The manacles on her wrists had been painfully tight, restricting the blood flow to her restrained hands. The release of pressure was a blessing.

Her ankles were next, bringing the same relief. The Fire Flier nudged her forward, evidently nearing the edge of the roof. He led her too far forward. Inej’s toes passed the lip of the rooftop, and she knew that another step would send her tumbling over the edge.

This captor of hers was inexperienced; an unwise yet precious move on Prenten’s part. As the man reached to undo the hood wrapped around Inej’s face, perfecting the facade of an accidental death, Inej moved.

She was much shorter than the man behind her, so Inej was able to duck under his outstretched arms, reversing their positions.

Did this man know of the Wraith, of the nightmare legend that surrounded her? Inej did not fall, especially not when pushed. She escaped gravity indefinitely. Stealing away her sight, her smell and hearing, did nothing. She knew the sky and the world around her better than anyone and anything.

That was the last mistake the Fire Flier would ever make. Inej shoved him, letting him stumble with a choked cry before he met the very fate set for her.

In just a few frantic, racing heartbeats, his cry was cut short with a brutal thud. The ensuing silence blanketed the air. It could have drowned her if Inej let it.

Instead she fell back from the ledge, filled with dizzying repose. The gloves restricting her hands wouldn’t budge, still trapping them in a fist shape. So Inej fitted the material between her feet, yanking it from her right hand. The second one came off easily, followed by the hood. Inej gratefully looked around, shaking her hands loose.

She was on the second story roof of a small house. When Inej realized that she recognized the surrounding buildings, her stomach turned.

This street bordered the White Rose and the Menagerie. Inej felt nauseous at the memory which sprang forth. She and seven of the other girls working for Tante Heleen had been confined to a single tiny bedroom when they weren’t working in the parlor. There had been a narrow window on the wall next to Inej’s bed, and she’d spent countless hours looking through it, dreaming of her freedom. 

She often contemplated this very house.

Inej shivered, letting the memories wash over her, then forcing them to back away; just as the sea tides were. Then she ran, leaping from the rooftop and onto the next, catching herself with legs that barely shook. 

She forced herself to feel nothing about the memories or the murder. Death was difficult to face- impossible, even. But it was a simple coin-flip of fate between her and the Fire Flier, who was now inevitably dead, if he hadn’t been killed on impact already.

Inej had made her choice. She knew, in her heart, that it was the right one. 

~--~

Inej prayed that she would find Keeg at the Slat when she arrived there. 

She ran as fast as she could, taking the most direct route to the Slat that she knew of. It felt as if she were flying, Inej’s feet barely glancing a rooftop or window ledge before she continued onward. The Fire Fliers could have gotten to Keeg as well, ruining the supply of _fantya_ and rendering their venture to the Stronghold utterly useless. They could have injured Keeg further, or even killed him.

Inej needed to find out. If she ran fast enough after stopping at the Slat, perhaps she would be able to track Keeg down and save him before something more terrible could occur.

Then she heard familiar voices from the street below. Inej slammed to a halt after making a tricky jump, nearly losing her balance on a narrow window ledge.

Jesper, Anika and Pim were there, sprinting in the direction she’d just come. “We need to move fast,” Jesper ordered Anika and Pim, the desperation in his words unnerving.

Confused, Inej turned back, choosing to follow them. She hopped onto the rooftop and then slid down a drainpipe after pushing ahead of the others slightly. She landed silently in the street as the three rounded a corner.

They didn’t see her. “Jesper,” Inej called. He froze, the others immediately doing the same. Jesper’s jaw clenched shut as he watched Inej step out of the shadows.

“But she- oh, shit,” said Anika. “You warned him it was a setup.”

“Who? Jesper, Keeg and I were attacked by Fire Fliers after I left you with Roeder. Have you seen him? What are you talking about?”

“Run with us,” Jesper urged her. “I’ll explain on the way. Right now, we need to get to a warehouse on Merinstraat.”

That street was strangely close to the one Inej had just fled from, which she quickly told Jesper.

“We know,” he said. “Prenten told Kaz he was keeping you at that location- a lie, I suppose, but a close one. It doesn’t matter. Kaz was ready to tear the world apart, Inej. I tried to force him to make a plan, but he wanted to get to you immediately. I couldn’t reason with him.”

Dread and guilt coursed through Inej, almost throwing her off balance. “They used me to spring a trap,” she realized, understanding immediately. “When Kaz gets to that warehouse, I don’t know what the Fire Fliers will have waiting- but it won’t be me.” She had never been there at all. No matter how fast Kaz might be running, he couldn’t catch up to her, and only peril was awaiting him.

“This is gonna be a shitshow,” Anika muttered, shifting her gun holster to her hip as she ran. “Damn you, Kaz. The one time you try something without a plan.”

The streets were too winding, too narrow. Inej huffed with frustration. “If we all travel this way, we’ll be too late,” she said, climbing onto the nearest ledge and hoisting herself up. “Hurry,” she called out, perhaps helplessly; Anika, Jesper and Pim hadn’t stopped running. 

Inej surpassed them eventually, taking shortcuts and cutting corners where the others could not as she hopped across rooftops, following almost the exact route she had just traveled.

Exhaustion was creeping in, wrapping around her bones, but Inej couldn’t pause to rest. Kaz had thrown himself headfirst into this mess because of _her_. She tried to remind herself that it was not her fault; as far as business went, she and Kaz were not indebted to each other. But beyond that…

Inej pushed those thoughts aside. _Focus_. Guilt would get her nowhere. Inej needed to be focused solely on rescuing Kaz before it was too late. 

The warehouse came into view. Inej ran faster, slipping on shingles, nearly tumbling over the edge of a roof. With any less experience she would have plummeted to her death.

Finally Inej reached the large, abandoned building on the corner, just as Jesper had described. It was originally constructed for factory use. On the front door, Inej could see markings of ash; a phoenix, the Fire Fliers symbol.

Inej landed on the roof, scaling down the wall until she was at street-level, ignoring the bloody scrape of her fingertips against unforgiving stone. She entered straight through the front doors, not caring what foes might greet her. If something had happened to Kaz, Inej would kill them all.

The main room was empty.

Inej hurtled through the narrow hall to the side, checking every room. All the windows were covered with dusty sheets, but there was enough light from the hall to see that every single room was vacant. Even when Inej flung open closed doors, they all yielded the same result.

Heart hammering, Inej ascended the metal stairs to search the second floor. Here there was merely a single large room, with a dingy bar counter in the corner and worn-out footstools near the center. The floor was concrete, with rugs haphazardly spread out to hide oil stains from old machinery. There was no sign of a struggle, nor of any prisoners.

No sign of Kaz.

Inej retreated back to the first-floor hall one last time, as if Kaz would suddenly manifest, smirking and unscathed and ready to escape with her.

She kept holding onto that foolish hope, paralyzed by it, when Jesper and the others rushed in. They found her standing in the middle of one of the tiny rooms, still and silent, utterly alone.

“Kaz is gone,” Inej told them distantly. “You can search this place from bottom to top. He isn’t here. No one is.”

Anika swore viciously. Jesper swallowed hard. Pim’s expression twisted, but he remained silent. Inej couldn’t bear to meet any of their eyes.

Gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i gotta talk about this because i have been d y i n g to explore this concept. kaz is very much the kingpin in multiple regards. you know? his leadership, his truly insane schemes, him being the literal Dregs boss. I'm obsessed with the involved power dynamics. fun fact! basically the whole story here was born from this very concept: if kaz was forcibly taken out of the picture, how long would it take for everything to go terribly wrong?   
> (i wrote the altercation with Prenten in the last chapter and a (shitty) version of this chapter right off the bat; these scenes came before everything bc I'm trash for angst and kanej. i didn't even have Prenten's name back in march or april. i just knew that i wanted the plot to arrive at this point). anyway! I've been so excited to bring this part to life that I wanted to share.   
> i've mentioned a few times in these ridiculous end notes that chapter 15 starts part 3. it gets more angsty and kanej creeps closer, and i love a lot of the dialogue, AND the name of the part is just.. i am wayyy too impressed with myself but that's so rare i just can't help it  
> so yeah! i cannot wait to get chapter 15 out. it should be here fairly soon :))


	15. Part 3 ~ Sanctuary of the Mind; 15 ~ Kaz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaz wakes up chained and alone, unknowing of Inej's fate. Confronted by the Fire Fliers boss, he learns of something shocking, and dreads the fate that awaits him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like i need to stop embarrassing myself in the notes lmfao. so all i'll say is this- i hope "sanctuary of the mind" is at least half as enjoyable to read as it has been to write so far! also **please mind the tag updates**. the latest one is "torture"- yes, that is where this fic is going. that's all the warning I'll leave to avoid further spoilers.  
> (this is mostly unedited- i have homework due in a few hours but wanted this posted. but it's still pretty good since i pre wrote a few big chunks literal months ago)

Kaz awoke suddenly, with the feeling that something was terribly wrong. His first thought was of Inej. His second was dedicated to trying to figure out where the hell he was. 

He was kneeling in the darkness, a cold, rough stone floor digging into his knees. It made Kaz’s bad leg ache. Each ankle was secured with what felt like heavy chains. Kaz moved his leg as much as he could, hearing the chain clink. What it was secured to, he didn’t know. Coarse rope snaked up his thighs, restricting both his blood flow and any hope Kaz had for moving. 

Next were his arms; secured with the same chains as on his ankles, Kaz thought passively. But while his legs were secured together, each arm was stretched outward to either side of him. Kaz pulled on one of the chains. It barely budged at all, leaving him with virtually no room to shift from the position that quickly became uncomfortable.

Surely there was a padlock on the chains somewhere. Kaz tried to slide his lockpicks into his hands, prepared for an easy escape. But the slim metal rods were fastened into cleverly hidden slits in his coat sleeves- the coat that had been removed. He was down to just his white collar shirt, trousers and shoes. 

He grit his teeth. Bastards. They’d taken Kaz’s gloves too, as well as the oyster knife strapped to his forearm. There was a spare knife stashed in his shoe for the more dire situations he might find himself in, but he couldn’t reach it, not with the way his arms were restrained.

He tugged at his bonds some more. The lockpicks would have been useless anyway. Kaz couldn’t feel or hear a heavy padlock clanking against the chains on his arms, meaning it was out of reach, or they’d restrained him some other way.

Kaz had anticipated escaping this attack with ease. He could elude every dark peril Ketterdam had to offer with practiced ease; he’d slipped his way out of jail, Jan Van Eck’s petty schemes, the Ice Court itself. Yet the Fire Fliers had ensnared him. The mere thought of it, the simplicity, set Kaz alight with rage. 

As begrudging to admit as it was, his captors had Kaz well and truly trapped. 

Kaz cursed himself. He’d heard Jesper loud and clear on that street, his threats but also his reason. The Fire Fliers had sprung an easy trap on him, and he’d entered it willingly, dumber than any of the pigeons he’d duped in the past. What was the point of Prenten’s meeting? Did he truly want to negotiate, or was it all a ploy to get Kaz here?

Something was wrong, something Kaz had been unable to admit to himself. He tried to piece together everything he’d learned of the Fire Fliers, but his mind was smothered with fog. They’d drugged him, Kaz knew, and the effects still sluiced through his veins. He hadn’t been tied up here for long, if he was still susceptible to it. 

He didn’t know where Inej was, what had happened to her. Kaz forced himself not to feel even the slightest bit of panic. He’d been seeing red as he made his way to the warehouse, leg on fire, pushing past his pain as he made his way to the address Prenten forcibly gave. Scorch marks on the front door, a symbol of the gang’s dreaded phoenix. Some of the ash there had settled on Kaz’s coat as he shouldered the front door open. 

Kaz didn’t even get the chance to look for Inej. Twenty members of the Fire Fliers had been waiting, some with guns and others with knives. They cornered him in an instant, barring the door and the stairwell.

Nowhere to run. Kaz knew nothing of the building’s layout, had no carefully-laid plans set forth. Crying out for Inej, trying to search for her, could have meant an instant death sentence. His own death, Kaz could accept. But if they had killed Inej because of _him_... Kaz would burn the Fire Fliers with their own flames, savoring every second, destroying them all with more fervor than his dismantling of Pekka Rollins. 

Inej had to be alive. Kaz could do nothing but pray for that until his chance to see her once more. 

Kaz closed his eyes, though it made little difference in the darkness. The air around him was cool and stale. Strange, that he hadn’t been blindfolded; even stranger that Prenten had yet to arrive and, perhaps, gloat.

In all fairness, Prenten had been left incapacitated on the Zentsbridge, Kaz recalled smugly. He let himself smile in the darkness at the memory, just for a moment. He was already planning what he’d do to Prenten next, after he found his way out of this setback. Kaz had already broken his hands. The boss’s legs would come next, then his neck.

Then Kaz heard voices from above. He craned his neck, searching the darkness, which yielded nothing. If there was another floor above him, Kaz must be confined on the second or third level of whatever building they’d brought him to; keeping him on the first floor would be a decision more inane than Kaz could even fathom.

A door creaked open. Light spilled across the floor, revealing few details about the room Kaz was confined in. A vertical beam made of industrial metal stretched toward the ceiling, which the chains on his left arm were wrapped around.

Kaz bent his neck down, listening and waiting. He heard Prenten, his strangely careful words distinct, and another man’s voice. Their discussion went silent. The door opened wider, blinding light now almost reaching Kaz’s feet. There was a bloodstain on the stone floor, dull red in the light from the other room. 

“He’s in here, boss,” said Prenten.

_Boss._

Kaz tried to make sense of it. His head was still swimming from whatever they’d used to sedate him. 

Boss. Prenten had a boss. Kaz should have seen it coming. He’d suspected it, based on Prenten’s high profile; there was a secondary player in this game, though Kaz had yet to discover who exactly it was. But that wasn’t a lead he’d ever pursued. Why hadn’t he?

Kaz would have, if not for the revelation that the Stronghold was truly more than a bedtime story, and the escalation of the murders and _fantya’s_ presence in Ketterdam, and Inej’s alleged capture…

Inej might be safe, Kaz realized, as naive a thought as it was. He couldn’t help but cling to it. She was the best of all men, could win any fight. Prenten notifying Kaz of her capture was surely a fabrication. 

Whether or not it was true, the Fire Fliers had achieved their end goal. Kaz went to them willingly, handing himself over on a platter. Now here he was, trapped by his own stupidity. 

The two men entered the room. Prenten’s boss, the real one, stood in the doorway to observe Kaz. When the door to the outside was shut once more, darkness engulfed the room.

Then an oil lamp was lit, swinging from the rafters overhead. A woman stood there, shaking out a matchstick, her pale face flickering in the new lamplight. Kaz hadn’t even seen her come in. How drugged was he? Perhaps she had already been in the room, shrouded by darkness, so still and quiet she was unnoticeable. 

Like Inej, Kaz thought suddenly. His heart lurched. He scanned the woman’s face again, just to be certain. She and Inej looked nothing alike. And Inej was ingrained in Kaz’s memory. He would know her anywhere. It was simply his own mind turning on him, drifting toward paranoia.

Inej wasn’t here. Kaz was grateful for that. Better him than her, always. 

“Kaz Brekker,” the boss greeted. The servant moved, lighting another lamp. Prenten remained motionless. Kaz himself refused to speak. He was burning with desire to ask questions, but for now he remained silent.

“Nothing?” the man asked, his full figure slowly coming into view as the room grew brighter. “I would expect even the barest greeting from a fellow Barrel boss.”

Kaz inclined his head. “You lost that courtesy after kidnapping, drugging and restraining me.” He kept his tone mild, indifferent. The height difference between them was demeaning, with Kaz forced to the floor. 

“I suppose that’s true.” Kaz could get a good look at the boss, now. The man was middle-aged and graying, wrinkles formed around his eyes. He was at least a head shorter than Prenten, but had a much more commanding air around him. Prenten had seemed authoritative when standing alone, but next to this boss, he was cowed and strangely subdued. 

The man’s eyes were strange, a brown that almost appeared red. There was a glint of something dark there; madness or grief or something else, Kaz didn’t know. 

He looked down. The boss’s hands were covered with scars, all faded white with age. They extended in jagged strokes up his forearms, decorating the skin there with a strange artistry. 

The boss followed Kaz’s gaze. His jaw tightened, and he folded his arms behind his back. Interesting. 

“You’re wondering who I am, surely,” the man continued. 

“The Fire Fliers boss,” Kaz answered. 

“That I am. You may call me Rvalnir, Mister Brekker. It truly is spectacular to meet you. The Barrel’s rabid dog, in the flesh. Quite the honor.”

Kaz laughed at that, jerking his chin in Prenten’s direction. “I took a considerable bite out of your lieutenant.” Prenten did look terrible, Kaz noticed with wicked satisfaction. Blooms of red bruising from Kaz’s cane swept across his jaw. Each hand was bandaged carefully, and the man kept his weight on his non-injured leg. 

“Oh, I was quite impressed with that little show of violence.” Rage passed over Rvalnir’s face. “You’ll be paying for it later, I hope you know.”

“I’m sure I will,” Kaz said. He was stronger than both Prenten and Rvalnir. Whatever the boss had planned, Kaz was confident he could take it. 

“So Prenten was your decoy, your puppet,” Kaz continued, dismissing Rvalnir’s threat and letting it wash away. He wanted to drive the conversation toward something more important. “Why?”

Rvalnir motioned for the servant girl in the corner. She stepped around Kaz, and came back into view with a plush wine-colored chair, which was placed on the floor. It would look more at home in a rich mercher’s office, and seemed ridiculous in this barren room.

“You’re the King of the Barrel, Mister Brekker,” Rvalnir began, sitting down. He folded his hands in his lap to display all the scars. “Or, you were. You should know that shadow business is the most productive kind. Prestige would do nothing for me. I needed to be inconspicuous and anonymous to achieve my goals for this city.”

“Which are what?”

“Now, I can’t just give it to you that easily. Where’s the fun in that, Dirtyhands?”

“I suppose there is none. Though I find this intriguing, Rvalnir. You claim to have some grand purpose for Ketterdam, yet you’ve been hiding behind your lieutenant for some time.” Kaz shifted in his chains. All his limbs had begun to go numb, and it was a struggle to keep himself coherent. 

Rvalnir’s face darkened. “Prenten was a dumb brute when I met him- could barely talk. I fashioned him into an ideal weapon. I made his mind as adequate a tool as his strength. And you’ve taken that from me, Brekker.”

Kaz considered him. “You seem to be impressed with yourself. But all that doesn’t make you smart, Rvalnir. It makes you a coward.”

In an instant Rvalnir stalked forward, gripping Kaz tightly by the throat, nails digging into his flesh. “Need I remind you which one of us is chained up, here?” he snarled.

Kaz barely heard him. He was fixated on the feeling of Rvalnir’s hand at his throat. The man’s skin was hot and mottled with scars, choking off air, but Kaz felt as if he were drowning for an entirely different reason.

The gloves. His stupid, weak, reliance on the gloves that had been fostered over the years. Kaz was still unable to shake it. He’d improved marginally over time, removing them when he could, especially in Inej’s presence. Things got easier, in a way, but there was still the instinct brought on by exposed skin that touch meant danger, meant the smell and feel of corpses, meant drowning. 

Rvalnir’s hand at his throat made his mouth fill with seawater. Kaz tried to keep himself still, but he thrashed in the chains, nowhere to swim- no, run- from the boss in front of him.

No. Kaz was not in the harbor. He refused to let Rvalnir understand this part of him, or anything else. Certainly not until Kaz learned more about the man himself. 

Rvalnir stepped back, and then Kaz could breathe again. There was a strange look on his face. “I barely touched you,” Rvalnir murmured, studying Kaz with a jarringly different look in his eyes. Curiosity mixed with excitement, and it made Kaz’s stomach turn. His chest was still heaving and he felt as if his heart would burst from his chest and spill on the floor. 

Rvalnir returned to his seat, expression neutral once more. He pulled something from his pocket. Kaz could see that it was a blade, a strange one: circular, edges brutally sharp, with an opening in the middle where it was held by the man’s thumb. “You must be wondering why I brought you here.”

“The thought crossed my mind,” Kaz replied sardonically. 

Rvalnir huffed. “There’s something very important I’ve been searching for,” he said. “I’m truly at a loss, Brekker. I know you’ve heard about the missing Councilman Darrick Taureau. I want to know where he is.”

“I don’t care for mercher politics,” Kaz said. They both knew it was a lie. He only said it to buy himself more time to think.

Kaz had assumed the Fire Fliers were the ones to capture Taureau. Rvalnir wouldn’t have brought Kaz here if it wasn’t dire. What business could the man possibly have with a mercher? And if Rvalnir’s gang hadn’t kidnapped the councilman, Kaz couldn’t fathom who would. His next best guess was the Shu, or perhaps the Ravkans hoping to enact revenge. But for what, Kaz didn’t know. 

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Rvalnir answered.

Kaz splayed his hands. “I couldn’t tell you who kidnapped the mercher, nor do I care.” He was curious about it, but he would never lose sleep over another mercher being put into the ground. All he knew about Taureau was that he’d taken the Council seat from his father, who had died not two years previously.

“You’re lying,” Rvalnir accused.

“I welcome you to prove that. My best solution for you, Rvalnir, would be to invest in better spies. If you brought me here just for this, if you can’t learn of the Councilman’s whereabouts for yourself… it’s pathetic. A weakness.” Kaz could tell this was a man deeply invested in his strength and his pride.

Rvalnir laughed. It was a chilling sound, cold as stone. “We can talk of weaknesses, of my spies and the information they’ve gathered. I know it will delight you.” 

Kaz refused to let himself be thrown off by the boss’s confidence. He nodded for Rvalnir to continue.

“Weaknesses, Kaz Brekker, are the smallest of gears in an intricate machine.” He spun the circular saw blade around his finger, letting it flash in the low overhead light. “With just one part missing, the machinery falls to pieces. It sputters in vain, only to tumble to the ground, shattering an entire operation with one weak link.

“I have been playing the long game in Ketterdam for longer than you have been alive, Dirtyhands. Information seeps through the cracks of this rotten city, it always will- and I have waited below it with a tin cup, ready to collect the secrets that flow like water on these dirty streets. Nothing escapes me. Every man that can be bought, every gang, every gambling parlor, whorehouse and bank- my presence is waiting.”

“You know nothing,” Kaz spat. 

“Are you so certain? You’re nineteen years old, Brekker. A few years ago you hired Inej Ghafa straight from the shiniest brothel in the city, and she became a valuable asset to the Dregs. From there my collection slowly grew- names, places, motivations. Heleen Van Houden, who handed the girl over to Per Haskell on the basis of your demands. A thug called Oomen, turned up at the docks with his eye torn out, having drowned after stabbing the girl. Jan Van Eck, her captor. A vessel named _The Wraith_. Do I need to continue?”

Kaz didn’t answer. He stared up at Rvalnir with as much hatred as he could muster. 

“These pieces created quite the puzzle. The Wraith has skills that go unmatched, yes. But the efforts you went to for her, the struggles and losses…”

“This has been a pretty speech,” Kaz interrupted. “Whatever point you’re trying to make, spit it out.” 

“Patience, boy. The final piece came front and center, so dizzyingly strange I almost couldn't believe it. A spy reported back to me over a year ago, one morning just after sunrise, with the whereabouts of the bastard of the Barrel. Kaz Brekker, at berth twenty-two of Fifth Harbor, holding a Suli girl’s hand.”

Kaz’s mind went blank, his thoughts swept away by his fury. He was going to kill Rvalnir. He was going to rip him apart. 

“Ah, so you remember. I was astounded that Dirtyhands could be shaped into something even vaguely human. I had half a mind to slash the spy’s throat for having gone mad, until I uncovered the truth.”

Rvalnir paced slowly. Kaz fought the urge to tug at the chains on his limbs, knowing there was no good to come from it. It would only alert the man in front of him that Kaz was more panicked than he appeared. 

Kaz was not a frightened, cornered animal. He was the type of monster only a city like Ketterdam could manufacture. He would not be reduced to this silly fear that Rvalnir had him well and truly caged. 

“You know, I used to believe you were untouchable,” Rvalnir continued. “All your gears, well-oiled; not a single stray wire or cog out of place. Killing you would have been easy, a smart move- but you intrigued me. It became an obsession of mine, to learn what made Kaz Brekker tick. And I finally have my answer. Your weakness is that you are not truly a nightmare; your weakness is Inej Ghafa.”

“You’ll regret this,” Kaz snarled, anger igniting him. His skin crawled. Rvalnir had no business knowing these things, and the fact that he was spitting them with such glee terrified him. Kaz was not meant to be known by anyone, much less a man like this- and the fact that Rvalnir had tainted the memory of that moment at the docks made his blood boil. “I will destroy you.” 

“Empty threats come from empty plans,” Rvalnir scolded him good-naturedly. “That’s what I live by. Men only boast when they’re backed into a corner. You have nothing, Kaz Brekker. Until now you have never seen my face. My real name is only spoken by those foolish enough to dare. Go ahead, Dirtyhands. Tell me one of my secrets. Show me your hand. Bargain your way out of these chains with blackmail.”

Kaz clenched his jaw. He understood that he was slowly getting backed into a corner. Rvalnir was unnervingly difficult to read, save for a few tells. Anything Kaz could reveal would be on the basis of dumb luck alone, and if he was wrong, Rvalnir would know for certain that Kaz was empty-handed. 

Ultimately, he said nothing. Kaz maintained eye contact out of sheer force of will, but did not speak.

Rvalnir’s laugh was a triumphant crow. “Kaz Brekker, here with his hands tied! If you somehow make it out of here alive, you’ll still never find a thread of mine to unravel. Do you know why, Dirtyhands? Because I achieved what you failed to do. I became a Barrel boss with no ties, no silly attachments to be used against me.”

_I was that way too_ , Kaz screamed silently to himself. _And I did it better than you, until I found her. Meeting Inej was a terrible thing, it destroyed me._ But in too many ways Inej had also saved his life, beautiful and great as she was. 

“It was a simple exchange, you know. Pathetically easy, capturing Inej Ghafa to bring you to my doorstep- a pawn for the king.”

_Inej is no pawn_ , Kaz thought bitterly. She was a queen, one infinitely more deserving of a throne than Rvalnir. “What did you do with her?” Kaz asked. He meant for the question to sound vaguely curious. He failed. He always failed when it came to Inej. 

Rvalnir noticed. “I don’t believe I should share that with you. It would be a shame to break you so quickly, after the efforts I’ve gone to.”

He couldn’t think about the implications there. “Surely you have a better use for me than extracting information I can’t give.” Kaz barely kept his voice from shaking with rage. 

“That will come in due time. I do have big plans for you, Kaz Brekker, extraordinary things. Your reputation in the Barrel is fearsome. Very impressive! The Barrel serves you. But once I tame the beast, the rest of the city will fall in line.”

Kaz understood. He was Ketterdam’s biggest player. He’d challenged merchers and won. Citizens who had never stepped foot in the Barrel knew of him, and most were too terrified to even speak his name. But if Rvalnir was able to subdue Kaz, an impossible feat, the city would be shaken. The other, weaker gangs would likely give Rvalnir whatever he desired in an instant.

“You can only hope that I’ll succumb to you,” Kaz rasped. “I bow to no one.” He kept his words indignant, clinging to his pride. 

“And yet you find yourself kneeling before me,” said Rvalnir, his grin twisted. 

Kaz could find no dignified answer to that. 

“I’m still waiting for an answer,” Rvalnir informed him after a moment. “I’m certain you know of the Councilman’s whereabouts. There is a simple way to do this. I’m only a difficult man when the need arises, Mister Brekker.”

Kaz shrugged. If he was able to hold out on Rvalnir before the man discovered that he truly knew nothing, he could increase his chances of survival and escape. “You’ll kill me before I give you even a single shred of information.” The Fire Fliers had enough, combined over years of spywork. Every small advantage Kaz could hold over Rvalnir’s head, he would take.

The boss sighed deeply. “You would do well to remember that you’re bringing this upon yourself,” Rvalnir said. He stood up smoothly, pocketing his blade, and reached for another item. 

He withdrew it from his pocket, holding it in the light. A small vial, no longer than Kaz’s ring finger, filled with a transparent liquid.

Kaz had never seen such a thing before. But he knew what it was, and just the mere sight of the vial was enough to flood his chest with dread.

Rvalnir smiled knowingly. They understood each other. “Erijer tells me you’re familiar with _fantya veir_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why is making kaz banter with people so fun? i just love him. ik this chapter was dialogue-heavy, but i needed to establish rvalnir and the fact that he's basically prenten's puppeteer. the uh.. torture will be in the next kaz chapter. the next one is the wesper reunion we all need, and wylan/nina discovering that kaz is gone. i have it perfectly outlined so writing should be quick  
> it's finally here!! sanctuary of the mind- my favorite part. these coming chapters are so dysfunctional and I'm way too ecstatic about it. the angst is just spectacular. also planning everyone's reactions to kaz getting kidnapped (which they never even considered possible) was so fun for no reason.  
> i hope anyone reading this is enjoying themselves! i certainly am and ig that's what counts. i will see everyone (or not...? i have a ton of holiday-related stuff to do) in a few days  
> also, i hope everyone enjoys the season regardless of what holiday (or, if any) they celebrate!


	16. 16 ~ Wylan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dregs are scattered across the city, and Wylan and Nina wait with apprehension to hear of the misfortune befalling them all. Jesper and Inej return to the Slat with shocking news. A path forward is forged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alternate chapter summary- a collective “oh shit” moment. and jesper and wylan see each other again :’) i love them too much  
> (obligatory disclaimer- once i finish this monster of a fic, I’m planning to come back and remaster the chapters, fixing grammar and some of the more terrible dialogue. this will be the first one to get rewritten, like oml. moral of the story- outline your chapters and do it well)

When Roeder appeared in the office doorway Wylan felt his heart stutter, and for a moment he wondered if it had stopped altogether.

He was sitting in Kaz’s office with Nina, which she was apparently allowed to enter as she pleased. Wylan was skeptical that Kaz would ever allow such a thing, but he kept his mouth shut about it. 

Nina had winked at him when they first walked in. Wylan nodded to himself, glancing at the tightly-shut office door. They definitely weren’t supposed to be in here, if the rebellious sparkle in Nina’s eyes was anything to go by.

Nina was perched on the low armchair in the corner, flipping lazily through a dusty old book. Wylan took a seat on the floor against the bookcase. It was uncomfortable, his shoulder blades digging into the wood, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. 

The last week had been exhausting, anxiety plaguing Wylan’s dreams and making his hands shake. Every door opened, every corner turned, Wylan expected to see Jesper there with a blinding grin on his face.

He never was. For all Wylan knew, Jesper was dead in a ditch right now and Wylan would never see him again.

He sighed, banging his head back against the bookcase. Nina glanced up at the thumping sound his skull made against the wood. She folded the corner of her page and dropped the book onto the floor, turning her full attention on him. “Right now, no news is good news,” Nina reminded Wylan quietly, as she had countless times over the past few days.

Wylan glanced at the door again to give himself an excuse to look away from her. “I know,” he replied, trying to believe it and failing rather miserably. 

Then the doorknob turned. Nina didn’t move at all, sprawled casually on the chair, but Wylan quickly hauled himself up in preparation for Kaz’s lecture.

Wylan had known Kaz would be back soon. He’d departed from the Slat recently to meet with Prenten, and he would surely come back meaner than usual. Wylan decided he would stay out of the crossfire when Kaz inevitably returned and chewed Nina out. 

And Wylan wasn’t afraid of the guy, he wasn’t, but he knew how to pick his battles. Nina loved to mess with Kaz, it was one of her favorite pastimes. That was just a death wish, like poking an angry snake and waiting to get bitten. 

Though it wasn’t Kaz that appeared in the doorway. Roeder stood there, expression full of a grim hope that caught Wylan off guard. Part of the Spider looked elated, but also scared.

“I can’t tell if you’re bringing good or bad news,” Wylan frowned, voicing his concerns.

“Both,” Roeder said with a sigh.

“So?” Nina demanded after a moment, sitting up. “Give us the good news, then.”

“Jesper and Inej returned alive from the Stronghold with Keeg,” Roeder told them.

Wylan’s breath caught. He buried his face in his hands and fought the ridiculous urge to cry, full of joy and relief. They’d survived. Jesper was _alive_ , he honored his wild promise of return that Wylan couldn’t help but doubt. 

Nina laughed, clapping her hands together. “Thank the Saints!” she cried out. “I knew they would make it.”

“Well,” Roeder began hesitantly. “They- they survived the Stronghold, yes, but something else went wrong.”

Unease swept in immediately, stealing Wylan’s joy and all the air from his lungs. “What happened?” he choked out, daring to ask the damning question.

“I don’t know.”

“You’re one of Kaz’s best spies, how do you not know?” Nina asked, staring up at Roeder, her green eyes bright with concern.

“I went to the Zentsbridge where Kaz and Jesper met with Prenten. None of them were there. They all disappeared. Then I found a bloodstain soaking the cobblestones.”

“No sign of any of them?” Wylan echoed. He felt like he was falling. 

“I returned here before going back to scout for them on the streets,” said Roeder. “You’re sure you haven’t seen anyone? Inej went with Keeg, Jesper with Kaz and the Fire Fliers boss.”

“I’m sure this office is the first place they would go,” Nina said quietly.

Roeder rubbed at his temple, looking weary. “I expected them all to have returned here if something went wrong. Where’s Anika? I need to tell her everything I know.”

Wylan hadn’t even realized how odd her missing presence was. “Anika isn’t here,” he told Roeder slowly. 

“I spoke with her a few hours ago,” said Nina. “Are you sure she left?”

“Anika spends most of her time in the common room, or Kaz’s office,” Roeder replied.

“I’ll look in her quarters.” Nina rose from the chair and stepped out of the room, leaving the office door open. 

“Something is wrong here,” Wylan murmured. “First the Merchant Councilman goes missing, then our contact within the Stronghold, and now all of our friends.”

“I don’t like this,” Roeder agreed. “We all know too much about the wrong things. Annaye concerns me the most- I don’t want our intel about the Stronghold falling into the wrong hands.”

Wylan nodded, tucking his hands in his pockets and leaning against Kaz’s desk. He hated this, all the uncertainty. He felt as if all the Dregs were stumbling in the dark, searching for answers and uncovering more mysteries. Wylan knew that something was wrong, but what exactly he couldn’t figure out. 

He just wanted Jesper in front of him and in his arms. Then Wylan could at least pretend that everything was alright. 

Nina returned to the office, then. “Anika is gone as well,” she confirmed. “The common room is empty, and so is her room.”

“We need to find them,” Roeder said with urgency. “Especially Keeg and Inej. He was transporting the drug samples they collected from the Stronghold, and Inej was meant to protect him.”

“Do you have any idea where they could have gone?” Wylan asked.

“None,” Roeder answered. “But I’ll search for them. You two should stay here and wait in case anyone returns.”

“Wylan and I can move to the common area,” Nina decided. “We’ll be sure to meet everyone who enters the Slat.”

“I’ll return here in two hours,” Roeder said, heading out to the hall. “And check back to see who’s here.”

Wylan couldn’t help but fear that none of them would find their way back.

~--~

Two hours later, it was evident that his fears were well-placed. 

Roeder returned with hope in his eyes, a light that was quickly extinguished when he found Nina and Wylan alone in the main room of the Slat. They had sat down together on the same couch and had yet to move even once. Wylan found comfort in the pressure of Nina’s shoulder against his. Sometimes she would reach over to grip Wylan’s hand without a word. 

There were few things Wylan had ever hated more than this, incessantly waiting for answers, for even the tiniest sign that everyone had survived. 

None came. 

Roeder clenched his jaw. “I’ll go back out.”

“We can help you search, if you want,” Nina offered. It was the first time she’d spoken in hours. 

“No. Stay here,” Roeder said. He pulled the door open, allowing cold winter air to rush in. Wylan automatically turned to the fireplace on the far wall. “I can cover much more ground than both of you.”

“He’s right,” Wylan muttered as Roeder left once more. “We’re not exactly useless, but if Roeder can’t find anyone, I doubt we could.”

Nina huffed in frustration. “I know that. I just hate having to sit here and do nothing.”

Wylan squeezed her hand. Nina returned the gesture. “I know, Nina,” he whispered. “I know.”

~--~

Three hours, now. 

Wylan finally gave in to the urge to pace. Nina watched him, still not speaking. Her eyes had gone vacant, and at first Wylan thought she’d fallen asleep, but it seemed more like she’d just retreated deep into her thoughts. 

Wylan didn’t blame her for it. He wished he could do the same, but his heart was racing and it distracted him too much. He thought about going upstairs to try and sleep, but he knew that would be impossible in this state. Fatigue made his eyes sting. The hour was late into the night, creeping closer to sunrise. 

Footsteps sounded from the other side of the front door. Wylan froze, spinning on the floorboards, heart thumping even harder in his chest. Nina followed his gaze, a hand over her mouth.

Roeder came in the room first, swinging the door open so hard it slammed against the wall. His cheeks were red and wind-whipped from the cold. 

Anika was behind him. Inej followed, barely even a shadow. Wylan could hardly see her until she stepped into the light. 

And behind them was Jesper, his gray eyes impossibly bright. Wylan had sworn that he wouldn’t cry before but now he couldn’t care about that at all. 

“Jesper,” he breathed. 

Wylan didn’t know if it was him or Jesper that moved first. It didn’t matter. They met each other halfway, Wylan barreling forward so hard he nearly knocked both of them over. Jesper almost tripped over a table. That didn’t matter either. Nothing did, except for the fact that Jesper was safe and alive and standing with a grin on his face.

Wylan flung his arms around Jesper, holding him as tight as he possibly could. He buried his face against Jesper’s shoulder; Wylan could smell gunpowder, traces of blood and some fragrant soap, an unfamiliar but welcome combination.

“Never do that again,” Wylan muttered into Jesper’s shoulder. “Ever. I mean it.”

Jesper draped his chin over Wylan’s head, flattening his curls, squeezing him just as hard. “I wasn’t even gone for that long,” he argued lightly.

Wylan closed his eyes. “It felt like years. I thought you would be killed.”

“I wasn’t. I knew I had to make it out of that terrible place alive. You think I would leave you all alone in this city?” Jesper pulled away so he could look at Wylan, and he hated the loss of contact but obliged. Wylan kept one hand curled in the fabric of Jesper’s shirt as a compromise. 

“I hoped you would return,” Wylan said quietly, suddenly aware of all the people in the room with them. “But the Stronghold is dangerous, and Kaz threw you into it headfirst, and there was just too little I knew to fully believe you’d be safe.”

Jesper’s shoulders tensed at the mention of Kaz, but Wylan didn’t ask why. “I’m here now,” he murmured comfortingly, bringing Wylan back into a hug. “It was fun escaping those bastards, really. We got away unscathed.” He turned his attention to Wylan’s arm. “Hey, what’s this?”

Wylan glanced down at the white bandages wrapped around his wrist, the edges of which were frayed. Jesper held his hand up delicately. “I fell out a window and almost got shot,” Wylan said casually, remembering the murderer’s home. It felt much more embarrassing in hindsight.

In the past, Jesper might have laughed at that. Now he just looked concerned, his face pinched with worry. Wylan tilted his head up to give Jesper a careful kiss. “Don’t worry, I’m fine. The injury is nothing. It barely hurts.” Wylan stepped back fully, scanning Jesper’s face and clothes. He was clad in a surprisingly drab linen shirt that buttoned near the collar. 

Wylan glanced down and froze. “Forget about me,” he said hurriedly. “You said everyone was uninjured, Jes, but you’re bleeding!”

Jesper looked down at his side as well, picking at the bloodstained fabric there. “I am,” he agreed dully. “I guess I was running around too much. Tekke warned me the bandages wouldn’t hold.”

“Who the hell is-” Wylan shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. Let me help you with it.” He grabbed Jesper’s hand, prepared to pull him upstairs, but Jesper stopped him.

“Wait, Wy,” he requested, voice suddenly strained. The uneasiness in Jesper’s expression came back. “First we need to tell you and Nina what happened.”

Wylan blinked hard. In his excitement he’d completely forgotten about all the waiting and the unexplained absences. “Right. Of course. I- sorry.” He looked around. Inej and Anika had joined Nina on the couch, respectfully looking away to give him and Jesper a small semblance of privacy. Roeder denied them that same courtesy, drinking from a beer as he watched them absently. 

Ignoring Roeder, Wylan couldn’t help but pay more attention to Inej. Her head was bowed, trembling hands clasped together in her lap. Her shoulders were tight as wire, and a feeling of dread and fury seemed to wash over her, making the atmosphere in the room much more somber than Wylan had initially picked up on.

That same sadness clung to Jesper, matching Roeder’s now-evident fear and the worry in Anika’s eyes. “Wait,” Wylan began slowly. “What happened? And where’s Kaz?”

Nina, impatient, was clearly waiting for the answer to that very question. Inej stood up, her movements jerky and lacking in their usual grace. “We should talk in the office,” she said, the words dulled by apathy.

“Why can’t we talk here?” Wylan needed answers, now. Something terrible had occurred and he wanted to know what it was.

“It’s important,” Jesper said. “And bad, really bad. Come to the office so we can’t be overheard.”

“Wait a moment,” Nina said, holding up a hand to stop everyone. “I’m with Wylan. What happened? I don’t know what you mean. Tell us.”

“Dammit, Nina!” Jesper snapped. “We can’t discuss it here. Saints, just follow us.”

Nina’s mouth clamped shut. Jesper had never bitten her head off like that- or anyone’s, really. Jesper stormed down the hall after glancing expectantly over his shoulder. Wylan was the first to follow, and heard the rest shuffling behind them.

They all settled in the office, Jesper keeping close to Wylan. Only Anika chose to sit, lowering herself into Kaz’s office chair. “Kaz is missing,” she began without pause. Jesper looked too angry, and Inej too sorrowful, for either of them to explain. Roeder had clearly been informed of this already, and sulked in the corner. 

Silence reigned, thick and heavy enough to drown them all. All Wylan could think was, _What?_

Nina’s mouth dropped open. “He’s what, exactly?” she asked dumbly. 

Wylan felt the same shock. “I- didn’t even think that was possible.” He was almost afraid to ask how such a thing had occurred.

Inej filled in the blanks for them unprompted. “It shouldn’t be,” she muttered. “But he was rushed. Prenten goaded Kaz, the bastard. Told him where the Fire Fliers were holding me.”

“It was a lie,” Anika continued. “Inej escaped just a few buildings away from where Prenten directed Kaz- a close deception. Inej found me, Jesper, and Pim. We arrived at the address, and Kaz was nowhere to be found.”

“So the Fire Fliers took him,” Nina realized. “By the Saints.”

Anika nodded. “We searched all the adjacent buildings and streets near that warehouse,” she said. “It took hours. None of us could find any trace of Kaz or the Fire Fliers, not even Inej.”

Inej’s expression twisted at that. “I’ll kill Prenten,” she whispered. There was a rough edge to her voice that Wylan had never heard before. “I’ll destroy every single one of them if Kaz is killed. Every single one.”

Nina stared at their friend, alarmed by the promise of violence. Inej had always been more quietly deadly; Wylan had never such a bold threat coming from her. 

Approaching Inej slowly, Nina laid a careful hand on her shoulder. “You said the Fire Fliers captured you as well, and you escaped. Are you alright?”

Inej’s eyes were dark and distant. “They were going to throw me off the roof. Stage a suicide.” She still sounded numb in a way both horrible and disturbing, from Kaz’s forced absence or her own capture Wylan didn’t know. 

Jesper gasped, looking stricken, temporarily pulled from his state of fury. “You didn’t tell me that.”

“In all fairness, we were preoccupied,” Inej said, raising her chin. Jesper had nothing to say to that, just pursed his lips and stared at the ground.

Nina pulled Inej closer. She went willingly, folding herself against Nina’s side. Silence followed them all once more; it seemed no one quite knew what to say. 

Eventually Nina broke through the quiet. still holding Inej close. “I’m trying to think of how we could get Kaz back, but… I’m at a loss.”

“Well, technically I’m the boss now,” said Anika. She leaned back in Kaz’s- her- chair, folding her hands behind her head. “I guess I’ll have to figure that out. Jesper, I’m making you my lieutenant.”

Jesper’s grin was sunny and pleased, though it fell from his face almost instantly. “Good choice.” In normal circumstances Wylan probably would have taken pride in that, Jesper feeling the same, but with the cause behind the title it was hard to be properly excited.

Wylan still couldn’t believe it. He was often frustrated and outright furious with Kaz, but it was disconcerting to think of him being captured. What were the Fire Fliers doing to him? Wylan was afraid to even wonder. 

“You can all leave,” Anika announced. “And not a word about this shit to anyone. Take this secret to the grave. Protect it more closely than all the other information Kaz has cursed you with knowing, alright? If anyone outside of this room learns that Kaz is missing, or possibly dead… it’ll lead to chaos on the streets and chaos amongst the Dregs.” 

That wasn’t something Wylan could even imagine. If word got out that Kaz had been abducted by the Fire Fliers, the power dynamic among Ketterdam’s gangs would be scrambled. The other gang members would uproar, or perhaps celebrate Kaz’s defeat.

Either way, it would be disastrous. 

Wylan felt a tight grip on his uninjured hand, and looked down to see that Jesper had folded his trembling palm into Wylan’s own. His heart twisted. He slotted their fingers together, trying to convey to Jesper his hope that Kaz would be alright. 

“I’ll go meet Pim,” said Roeder. “He went looking for Keeg.”

“What happened to him?” Nina asked. 

Inej winced. “After the Fire Fliers restrained me, Keeg fled. I lost sight of him. I’m afraid he’s been injured or killed.”

“Keeg and Pim have been using a system of safe locations for years, now,” Roeder said. “If Keeg survived, Pim will know where to find him.”

“Good,” Anika said. “Spend some time scouting afterward, will you? I know it’s late, and I’m sure you’re exhausted, but if there’s any chance of sighting the Fire Fliers…” her gaze was piercing as she waited for Roeder’s response.

He gave her a tight nod. “I’m on it. Boss.” Roeder stepped out of the office, ready to venture back onto the streets.

Their hands still intertwined, Wylan pulled Jesper into the hallway. “You’re afraid for Kaz,” he said easily, even if it was something Jesper didn’t want to hear.

Jesper stiffened. “Of course I am. Saints, Wylan. If the Fire Fliers kill him…” he shook his head. 

“Listen.” Wylan brought them both to a stop at the bottom of the stairs in the main room. “I was afraid for you and Inej at the Stronghold- of course I was. But you two were best equipped to survive that journey. For this, Kaz is the same. If anyone can escape the Fire Fliers, it’s Kaz. You know him.”

Jesper closed his eyes, kissing the back of Wylan’s hand and keeping it pressed to his lips. “You’re too good, Wylan.”

Wylan felt his face warm. He smiled. “Only for you.”

They stood there for a moment, Jesper trying to calm himself. Wylan watched him quietly until Jesper was ready, opening his eyes. “We should try to sleep,” Wylan suggested. “Things will look brighter in the morning.” At least he hoped they would. 

Jesper seemed hesitant to believe that, but he nodded regardless. “Sure thing, Wylan. Sure thing.”

~--~

Things were not, as hoped, better in the morning. 

Wylan woke up early, disrupted by the sun shining in through the narrow window of his and Jesper’s room. His head ached and his eyes felt sticky since he’d been asleep for no more than a few hours.

Wylan sat up in the bed, trying to stretch his neck. Jesper was already awake, sitting on the floor by the window with his long legs folded up. Wylan could barely stand the sight. Jesper looked so lost, fingers tapping aimlessly against his left knee as he gazed out the window. 

“Morning,” Jesper greeted when he saw that Wylan was awake, his voice still thick with sleep. “You want coffee?”

Wylan yawned. “Sure, Jes. Let’s go downstairs.” At the very least, it was familiar and would give them something to pass the time. 

In the main room, Anika and Nina were sprawled on one of the more comfortable couches. Anika leaned against the armrest, her feet kicked up on the coffee table. Nina, lying on the other side, had stretched her legs out to rest on Anika’s lap. A pair of satin slippers covered her feet.

Both of them had mugs of coffee, steam still wafting up from the hot, bitter drink. Jesper went straight to Nina, plucking the cup from her grip and swallowing it down quickly. 

“Hey,” she protested, sounding half-asleep herself. “I needed that.” Jesper patted her consolingly on the shoulder as he continued drinking. He collapsed into an armchair across from her without a word. 

The four of them remained there for the rest of the morning. Wylan felt much less restless than he had the day before now that Jesper had returned to him. Things felt almost normal, except for Kaz’s abduction hanging over their heads. 

Earlier, Nina had quietly reported that Inej was out on the streets, combing the city for even the barest sight of Kaz.

The back door of the Slat, the one that led through the kitchen, slammed open suddenly. Jesper, on his third cup of coffee, leapt up and almost uprighted his drink. Nina sat up, and Anika removed a gun from her side holster. 

Keeg stumbled through the doorway, blood caked on the right side of his face, almost completely out of breath. He stared at them for a moment, then half-fell against the banister. Keeg was swearing violently and repeatedly between each heaving breath he took. 

Anika shoved her gun back in the holster and ran towards Keeg. She shoved him down into a chair and pushed his head between his legs. “Breathe!” Anika yelled at him. “You’ve made it this far. You’re useless now if you die on us.”

That got Keeg to calm himself down. He stopped cursing and turned his focus to breathing normally. “You’re fine, now?” Anika asked after giving him some time to sort himself out.

Keeg took one last deep breath. “Fine, I’m fine. Shit, Anni. I was transportin’ the drugs Fahey and the Wraith stole for us. She came with me, and the Fire Fliers cornered us. Knocked me out and took the girl. Some of ‘em chased me but I managed to hide out until Pim tracked me down. Then the damned _stadwatch_ found us. Pim split off, but he’s safe. He’ll find his way back here once the guards get off our backs.”

“I’m glad to see you alive, Keeg. What of the _fantya_?” Inej asked, lowering her voice considerably before mentioning the drug.

Keeg unfastened the top three buttons receding from his collar, and pulled out the satchel that had been secured against his chest. “All the vials are unscathed,” he said, handing it to Anika.

She flipped open the top and rifled through the satchel. “Thirty doses,” she counted. “Apparently that pales in comparison to the Fire Fliers’ supply, but at least we aren’t completely empty-handed. Good work, Keeg.”

“Never thought I’d hear actual praise in our line of work.” Keeg tipped his head back and threw an arm over his eyes, ignoring the blood that stained his temple. “Where is the boss man, anyway? I feel like I deserve a raise.”

“Pursuing a lead,” Anika lied swiftly. “Don’t expect him back for a few days.”

“Damn. I could use the _kruge_.”

“You could also use a wash and a Healer.” Anika kicked Keeg’s shin. “Go on. Wash off that blood and get yourself a drink. You earned it.”

“Damn right I did.” Keeg gave them all a halfhearted salute and stumbled up the stairs. Roeder passed him there, doing a double take at the sight of all the blood. Keeg waved him off and disappeared on the second floor landing as Roeder reached their little group. He must have entered through the attic window Inej favored. 

“I was starting to wonder if you’d died,” Anika greeted him.

Roeder chuckled. “Not just yet. I was out longer than planned- there’s been another spree of murders.”

“Because, of course there has,” Jesper muttered. “Where and how many dead?”

“On the southern edge of the Warehouse District. A factory worker went off the rails and killed seven other employees. The man has since been detained.”

“Another unhinged killer? Roeder, we really need to stop meeting like this,” Nina said.

“Oh, trust me. I wish I could stop seeing dead bodies. This case was odd, though. I found this in the corner of the room.”

“What is it?” Anika asked.

Roeder dug around in his pocket and withdrew a crushed vial. “I’m not entirely sure, but I can take a lucky guess as to what this is.”

“ _Fantya veir_ ,” came a voice. Wylan glanced up in surprise. Inej appeared in the entryway of the hall that led to Kaz’s office. Her eyes were red and she had the look of someone that hadn’t slept in days, circles prominent under her eyes. “That’s identical to the vials Jesper and I secured.”

Anika exhaled heavily. “It’s the Fire Fliers, then. According to the Stronghold records, Prenten bought a small fortune’s worth of the drug. No one else in Ketterdam would have access to _fantya_ , I imagine.”

Nina tilted her head, considering Anika. “Strange, isn’t it, that Prenten didn’t use an alias. He could be charged or heavily fined for possessing those drugs, yet he put his name on record.” 

“I don’t know,” Roeder replied, somewhat uselessly. 

“Here’s what I don’t understand,” Jesper piped up. “The Fire Fliers are drugging people seemingly at random, and they go mad each time. How?”

“They could be doing test runs. Experiments on expendable innocents.” Wylan cringed as soon as the words left his mouth; such a thing was barbaric and horribly cruel. 

“Or they have ulterior motives,” Jesper mused. “What did Annaye tell us? _Fantya_ induces hallucinations. She said nothing about the drug leading to murderous violence. I don’t understand how the Fliers control what the afflicted see.” 

“We know too little,” Anika admitted quietly. Everyone stilled, the uneasiness hovering between them almost palpable.

Then Inej walked forward, placing herself in the center of the room with a gaze sharper than steel. “This is what we’re going to do,” she began. 

The plan she unfolded could only be described as spectacular. Wylan had tried to lift his and Jesper’s spirits previously with hope, feeling very little genuine optimism. But now, listening to Inej, he knew that she would stop at nothing until Kaz was returned to them all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just.. the fact that anika and nina have acted more like a couple than kanej, one of my ultimate favorite ships, in my own fanfiction😭 kaz and inej just need to kiss dammit  
> also keeg is so funny to me for no reason. it’s also way too fun to create parallels between what inej and kaz think about the other one being killed. anyone can fight me on the “going feral for the love of your life” trope. it’s spectacular, idk.   
> as for everyone's reactions to The Abduction, I thought what I chose was fitting- Wylan/Nina are shocked, Jesper's fear is displayed as either anger or sadness, and Inej oscillates between deep concern and violence. I'm running with that bc it fascinates me for whatever reason. (everyone is so unsure rn and it’s v dysfunctional. fun!)  
> btw! sometimes i don't respond to comments (which is entirely a me problem, I promise). if I don't answer you, please know that I read every comment appearing in my inbox (sometimes multiple times LMAO) and I appreciate everyone sticking around. tysm, it means a lot :) you guys are too nice  
> anyway happy new year! hopefully this year will be less shitty. updates might start coming every week instead of every four-ish days, so i will see you all whenever ! next chapter is another kaz POV and those are always easier to get through


	17. 17 ~ Kaz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaz finds himself at the mercy of Rvalnir, the Fire Fliers boss, and all the twisted games he wants to play. He loses himself and attempts to reclaim a crucial memory that will allow him to understand everything that has happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took WAY too long to finish because I was aiming for trippy but it just sounded confusing. I couldn't be bothered to do rewrites so uh yeah! we'll save higher quality writing for when I come back and do edits to the master doc once the whole fic is done ahah  
> so yeah- if this is confusing, remember the ending of Kaz's last chapter. that's all! enjoy, I hope  
> (one last thing: doing one last read through, and i want to cry at the number of -ing verbs lmfao i am this close to asking for a beta reader)

There was a hand wrapped around Kaz’s throat, and it made the irrational part of him feel as if he were dying.

Surely the cool, stale air around him wasn’t as impossible to breathe in as it seemed. But Kaz knew he had abandoned all rational thought, and whenever he tried to reclaim his mind it slipped away. Everything felt cold and strange and wrong. Kaz wanted to crawl out of his skin, or burn whatever room he was chained in to the ground, taking himself and Rvalnir with it. 

The boss was practically vibrating with glee. That was who the hand at his neck belonged to- Rvalnir. Somehow Kaz had forgotten that. He was still on his knees, limbs chained to the rough stone floor. The boss had put them in this position countless times: strangling Kaz, pinning him with a single hand against his throat, just to see how long it would take Kaz to lose his composure. 

Not long, he reflected bitterly. Not long at all. 

Kaz’s eyes watered from the most recent chokehold, obstructing his sight and making the vision of Rvalnir above him blurry, but still Kaz hoped his stare held as much violent hatred as possible. 

There were few men Kaz had ever despised more. Rvalnir had been toying with him for what Kaz suspected was at least three days, now. Keeping track of time was nearly impossible. Whatever room he was being held in had no windows, and his only light source came from the door to the hallway or the lamps hanging overhead, which were rarely lit. 

Rvalnir only set them aflame when he wanted Kaz to see his face. It was a ploy added by the boss with aim for mockery, a trap Kaz had to keep himself from falling into every time. He knew Rvalnir was enjoying this immensely, something Kaz resented. Each moment of pain for Kaz was one of power for Rvalnir. 

Kaz would almost be impressed by the boss’s methods of torture if they weren’t being inflicted on him. He was delivered small meals after sporadic periods of time, intentionally preventing him from being able to track the hours that passed. A low-level Flier always brought the food, nothing more than stale bread almost too hard to chew. It was enough to keep him alive but not healthy; already Kaz could feel the weakness in his muscles. 

He tried to refuse the food every time, and the water that accompanied it. Someone always forced it down his throat without fail, either choking him to force his mouth wide or prying open his jaw. Kaz tried not to succumb at first, but he had anyway, if only to escape the maddening feeling of hands against his skin. It brought him back to the harbor, the moment where he’d been ruined and everything went to hell, and _this was going to kill him_ , Rvalnir would see him through to the end either from Kaz choking to death or going _mad_ -

Kaz blinked hard. Rvalnir was no longer in front of him. The hand at his neck was nothing more than a phantom. He wished he could scratch and claw at the skin there, making himself bleed, but the chain cuffs kept his arms immobile and extended from his sides. Kaz needed the feeling, longed for something he could control, but that would not be given to him. At least not until he was able to escape from this disaster.

Where had Rvalnir gone? The back of Kaz’s neck prickled. He kept glancing over his shoulder, straining the weak muscles there. Someone was watching him, that he was sure of, yet he hadn’t the faintest idea of who or where they could be found. 

Where had Rvalnir gone? The boss’s presence brought nothing but pain for Kaz, but knowing of his whereabouts was the wiser move. It made him feel less like he was being kept in the dark. 

Kaz needed to free himself of this place. He’d assembled a thousand plans for escape, all of which had drifted from memory. None of the other Dregs would come for him if they were smart. He was left to his own devices, his own schemes of survival, if only he could _remember them_... 

Kaz’s eyes drifted shut unwillingly. He fought to keep them open, but found he couldn’t. How long had it been since Kaz had slept? He’d remained vigilant, based on the few memories he could recall, readying himself for every brutality Rvalnir had to give. 

That sleeplessness took its toll. Kaz’s head lolled as he felt his arms sag, tugging on the heavy iron manacles around his wrists. The moment of slight lucidity Kaz had gained was fading fast, and all he could think as unconsciousness stole his mind was that he’d forgotten something.

“Kaz,” a voice whispered from somewhere near the far wall, high and childish. Who was with him? Kaz tried to open his eyes and search the room for a friend or foe, but couldn’t. 

Where had Rvalnir gone? Kaz was forgetting something, a crucial piece of knowledge he needed to recall. Something about-

~--~

Kaz didn’t know where he was. 

The air around him was dark and cold, blanketing his vision and making his shoulders tremble. He was overcome by a terrifying numbness. The only things he could feel were the burning pain of his bad leg wedged against stone, a cut that stung on his lower lip, and the weight of chains around his arms.

Kaz didn’t know where or how he’d been captured, nor who restrained him. He jerked against the cuffs, feeling the skin on his wrists slice open against metal. That made him still, but only for a moment. For suddenly it seemed that the shadows were moving, made visible by a source of light he didn’t notice was there. And now there was a presence behind him, haunting and dreadful and deadly.

There was a knife at his throat. That was meaningless to Kaz, any sense of danger that came from the blade drowned out by the feeling of a hand gripping his hair, digging into his scalp. The minuscule point of contact was enough to set him off, igniting the pitiful weakness he’d never been able to rid himself of. 

Kaz thrashed in the chains, feeling wild, feeling unhinged. His wrists continued to scrape against metal, causing blood to drip down his forearms. Whoever was behind him, they moved the knife just far enough away to prevent Kaz from slashing his own throat, not an inch from the artery pulsing frantically beneath skin. 

He was overcome by a dull fatigue so quickly it was frightening. “Stop struggling,” came the command. The knife disappeared entirely as Kaz slumped over, held in place by the chains, which brought a fresh wave of pain to his wounded arms. 

It was Rvalnir that spoke, Kaz thought, the realization slamming into the forefront of his mind. He’d forgotten that somehow- Rvalnir, Prenten, the Fire Fliers and his capture. Inej, _Inej_.

Kaz squeezed his eyes shut. What had they done to him? His mind was still bleary and it left him hopelessly confused. 

Footsteps retreated from where Kaz was bound in place. He heard a door click shut, and was reacquainted with the darkness in which he’d awoken. The heavy footfalls returned to him, and Kaz watched as Rvalnir ignited one of the oil lamps fastened to a column, though he couldn’t see any match the boss held to light it.

“I’m still expecting your answer,” Rvlanir informed him. “You know of Councilman Taureau’s whereabouts, of that I’m sure. Mister Brekker, these unfortunate conditions you find yourself in are of your own design.”

Kaz’s tongue felt thick in his mouth, but he responded as best he could. “Go to hell,” he said clearly.

Rvalnir shook his head. “Can’t even speak. I expected you to be strong. Something mildly entertaining for me, at least. Let me ask again, boy. Where is Darrick Taureau?” 

Kaz’s head spun. “I don’t know,” he muttered.

Rvalnir clenched his fists, scars stretching across his knuckles. “Tell me where he is.”

“I don’t know,” Kaz said again, his own frustration igniting.

“Tell me!” Rvalnir rammed his fist into Kaz’s jaw. The blow made stars explode in Kaz’s vision as his neck jerked to the side. 

Rvalnir was panting as he shook out his hand. Blood dripped down Kaz’s chin, some of it splattering on his shirt collar. Kaz spat the rest at Rvalnir’s feet, ignoring the pain that bloomed on the side of his face.

The boss took a single, heaving breath, pivoting to distance himself from the blood. “You’ll tell me soon,” Rvalnir promised, hissing the words through clenched teeth. “I’ll force that knowledge from you if it arrives on the last breath you take before death claims you.”

Kaz’s eyes closed against his will, just as they had before. He could give Rvalnir nothing of value. That stalemate was the only leverage he had over the boss. “I will if you tell me why you need to find the mercher.”

“We have unfinished business,” Rvalnir answered vaguely. 

Don’t we all, Kaz tried to say. He didn’t, jaw hanging slack and useless. There was someone standing behind Rvalnir, a silhouette encased in shadow that diverted Kaz’s attention.

Rvalnir followed his stare, glancing over his shoulder with a smirk. “Perhaps you simply need more convincing to share your secrets. A bit of an incentive.”

Kaz was still watching the figure in the darkness he could barely see. He waited until Rvalnir was close enough, stooping down to his level on the floor for the first time.

Rvalnir leaned in, closer than he’d ever dared to get. Kaz took great pride and satisfaction in the way he spat more blood directly in Rvalnir’s eyes.

The boss jerked back, seething as he wiped the blood from his ear and the side of his face. “You’ll come to regret that, you rat. King of the Barrel- if only you were half as well-mannered as I.”

Kaz didn’t give a damn about Rvalnir’s desire for petty aesthetics and status, which he promptly shared with Rvalnir just to see rage bloom across the boss’s face. 

“You dare think I’m beneath you?” Rvalnir slammed a hand into his coat pocket, withdrawing a circular blade that Kaz was sure he’d seen before. He tore at the collar of Kaz’s white shirt, forcibly undoing buttons and leaving the skin on his chest exposed. Kaz fought to keep still in an attempt to keep himself from displaying even the barest weakness. 

Rvalnir placed the strange blade between Kaz’s collarbones. If he tried to crane his neck down, the wicked edge would slice into his chin. The boss pressed down gently, and Kaz felt his blood spill.

“Tell me where Darrick Taureau is.”

Kaz wondered what it would take for Rvalnir to abandon this. “Drowning in the harbor, for all I know or care.” 

The blade was pressed further into his skin, painful yet tolerable for the time being. “Who took him?”

“It was the Shu. Or the Ravkans, or the Fjerdans. The Kerch government itself, even.” Kaz was the one in chains here, but it was obvious to both of them that Rvalnir didn’t have the upper hand.

Rvalnir dragged the blade down Kaz’s sternum, spilling more blood. Kaz had survived much greater pain before. This was nothing, this was easy. “I do wonder how you discovered it. Did the little Wraith whisper secrets in your ear? Or the young boy Erry you sent to slaughter?”

Kaz bared his teeth. “For Erry, I blame no one but you.”

Rvalnir nodded. “I’m sure that would appease your conscience. When did Taureau disappear?”

“You claim to know… everything about Ketterdam. All its secrets.” Rvalnir dragged the blade back up his skin, deepening the wound and widening its edges. “Figure it out yourself.” 

“I cannot,” Rvalnir hissed. “Yet you managed to discover the Councilman’s whereabouts. Tell me your secrets, Brekker. Tell me how you know.”

Kaz felt so agitated he wanted to scream, wanted to take Rvalnir’s blade and jam it into his skull. He wished he could tell Rvalnir he knew nothing and have the boss believe it, so that he could be either killed or released from this hellish place. 

That same unknown figure was still standing behind Rvalnir, encased in shadows, silent and unmoving and strange. Kaz’s mind wandered as Rvalnir continued his interrogation, asking Kaz meaningless questions for which he gave meaningless answers. 

“You’re a fool,” Kaz finally spat, the long cut on his chest deep and burning. The pain from it wouldn’t be manageable for much longer. “You have nothing but empty threats and inadequate spies. My presence here is worth nothing at all.”

Rvalnir’s expression darkened. He cast his blade to the side, letting it clatter against stone, the edges stained scarlet from Kaz’s blood. Kaz braced himself, but still he was unprepared for the way Rvalnir dug his fingers into the wound he created, prying at the skin with nails that might as well have been sharp as steel. 

Kaz slammed his head backward, neck straining, jaw clenched shut to keep himself quiet out of sheer will. It was agony, the pain sharp as Rvalnir’s hand pressed into flesh and scraped against bone, causing more blood to spill down his chest. 

“Stop screaming!” Rvalnir commanded. 

But Kaz hadn’t been screaming. He was sure of that. He’d kept himself quiet; showing pain meant displaying weakness. 

Eventually Rvalnir stepped back and pulled away, shaking some of the blood from his hand with a look of satisfaction. He withdrew a white handkerchief from his coat pocket to wipe away the rest. “For your disrespect.”

Kaz could feel the flush on his cheeks and was aware that he probably looked half-mad. His chest heaved with each breath, pulling at the edges of the cut. It didn’t feel like the blood would slow anytime soon. Perhaps he truly would die here after all.

Kaz probably should have felt more dread at the thought, but his mind was slipping back into a cloudy state where focus and rational thought were near-impossible to achieve. Maybe he had lost his grip on sanity, and was simply unaware of it.

Strange, how Kaz’s mind had never once abandoned him, serving as the single reliable tool that kept him alive. Now he was losing himself, and couldn’t be bothered. 

Somewhere a door opened. Light spilled into the room, though Kaz could barely see it from the way his vision had darkened at the edges. 

“Erijer,” Rvalnir said. Prenten must have come in from the hall. “Bring more for the next trial. This will be more difficult than I anticipated.” 

Then, darkness once more. 

~--~ 

When Kaz came back to himself, he was tied down in a chair and his hands were miraculously free. 

He could feel loops of chain keeping his legs in place, secured above each knee. The cuts on his wrists and the one on his chest throbbed and stung against cold metal and frigid air. Blood from the deeper cut had dried on his navel. Kaz wished he could scrape it away.

But he could, Kaz remembered. His hands were unbound, so he folded his fingers to regain feeling there. Kaz’s arms protested at the motion, weak from being chained to the sides for countless days. 

The room was too dark to take stock of his surroundings, but Kaz did his best. He didn’t think anyone else was in the room with him. The chair he was bound to seemed to be made of a smooth, sturdy wood. Kaz shifted, trying to see if he could upright it, but the legs did not give. Bolted to the floor, then. 

But with his hands free, anything was possible. Kaz reached down carefully, feeling for the small knife concealed in his shoe. Inej had taught him that trick. She kept an identical blade, secured in a way that it wouldn’t loosen or cut her feet no matter how much running or climbing she did. 

The knife was still there. The Fire Fliers had robbed him of his gloves and his dignity, his gun and lockpicks and all the hidden knives, but they had overlooked this one. Kaz pulled the knife free, gripping the handle like a lifeline. 

All Rvalnir had to do was get too close, and Kaz would strike. He knew exactly where the door to the hall was, had memorized the pocket in which Rvalnir kept his own weapon. Even with one hand free, Kaz could best Rvalnir. With both hands, his possibilities were limitless. 

The door opened slowly, the hinges squealing. Kaz tucked the knife under his thigh and stilled, waiting for Rvalnir to approach him. The boss held an oil lamp, which he set down on the table sitting in front of Kaz. He hadn’t noticed it, the wooden surface within arm’s reach, resting slightly above his bound knees. 

“I thought I might offer something familiar,” said Rvalnir. In his hand was a deck of cards. The scars on the skin there looked white and oily in the flickering lamplight. 

“Cards,” Kaz said dully. He truly wasn’t in the mood. 

Rvalnir began to deal, placing piles below three different face cards. The setup was for Three Man Bramble. It was a simple game, one Kaz had discovered and mastered when he was but ten years old. 

“I thought I would raise the stakes, here,” Rvalnir explained, settling into his own chair. “Make things more entertaining for myself, and more memorable for you.”

Kaz felt exhausted. “What terms?” he resigned to ask. 

“If I win the game, you’ll reveal to me the Councilman’s whereabouts without deceit or falsehood. If you win, I’ll grant you the means for escape.” Rvalnir pulled a rusted iron key from his belt, setting it on the table with a heavy thud. Kaz eyed it warily. The offer was much too simple, and Kaz would be a fool for accepting it. 

“Deal,” he said shortly. 

Rvalnir nodded, flipping a card over, and the game began. “You could at least try to enjoy yourself, Mister Brekker.” The way he said it was scolding, light-hearted, as if they were bantering old friends and Kaz wasn’t tied to a chair.

“You’ve had me chained to a chair,” Kaz told him, affronted, voicing the thought.

Rvalnir chuckled. He was much more relaxed now, having rid himself of all previous rage while carving into Kaz with that strange blade.

They played in near-silence, Rvalnir posing the occasional question about Taureau, interspersed with attempts to extract more mundane information. Kaz answered scathingly each time, revealing as little as he could. It was an interesting tactic, the way Rvalnir attempted to lower Kaz’s guard with something familiar; a painfully transparent gesture, one Kaz was willing to play into. 

Rvalnir was as incompetent as they came. His ego held all the luster of fool’s gold. Kaz found it easy to tear the boss down, to wind the man up until he snapped, an exhilarating feeling. 

Between Kaz and Rvalnir, every movement was a deception, every word a game. 

“I played cards with your lieutenant,” Kaz eventually said. “He was unfamiliar with Ketterdam’s most well-loved games. You aren’t.”

“No,” Rvalnir chuckled. “I was raised in a small village outside of Dewlend, but Ketterdam has become my home. It is familiar- a beautiful city, I would say. I’ve come to know it well.”

Kaz sealed that knowledge in his memory then cast it aside. 

Silence fell once again. Rvalnir turned over a final card, setting down the last one in his hand. He hesitated, staring down at all the cards, separated into neat piles. “You win,” the boss muttered.

Kaz glanced down at the table. He hadn’t even noticed. “The key, then,” he said, outstretching his hand. Kaz’s heart quickened, hardly daring to believe that Rvalnir would let him be free of this place.

Rvalnir laughed, sweeping all the cards toward himself. He began to reshuffle. “Best of three, I think.”

Kaz stared at him. “Those weren’t your terms.”

“They are now.” In the blink of an eye, Rvalnir replaced all the cards, starting the game anew. 

Kaz’s focus was waning; his attention came in quickly-fading waves, but still he accepted the cards that were handed to him.

“You’re quite miserable to play with,” Rvalnir informed him. “This is terribly dull. I hardly believe you’re even paying attention.” 

Kaz watched blearily as Rvalnir set a hand on the table. Between his fingers were three slender knives, glinting in the light. The blades were sharper than the one Rvalnir had used to cut Kaz- more lethal than Inej’s own set, even.

“Target practice,” Kaz muttered, though he hadn’t meant to say it aloud. 

Rvalnir smiled pleasantly. “Something like that, yes. One blade for each round of cards you lose.” 

They played, the quiet between them now filled with a more heavy dread. With every breath Kaz took, he could feel the sting of the cut on his chest, still agonizing and leaking blood. He wondered if this was what his life had come to- being a prisoner to Rvalnir, engaging in these demented games to let Rvalnir explore his sadism. 

The first hand of three ended with a loss on Kaz’s part. Rvalnir set his cards down with satisfaction, exchanging them for one of the knives, which he spun in his hand gleefully. “I win.”

“You win,” Kaz agreed. He kept his tone mocking, unable to help himself from goading the boss. He already knew what was about to happen; they both did. “Go ahead,” he continued. “Cut me. Pin me to the chair with your knives. Aim for my head first or last, I have no preference.” 

Rvalnir’s expression was overcome by a dark, cold fury. Kaz had the sense to turn his head to the side just as Rvalnir threw the knife. It scraped the edge of his cheekbone, cut the edge of his ear, then clattered on the ground after slamming into the far wall. 

For a moment, they merely contemplated each other. Rvalnir’s eyes were a dull brown that seemed to glow with anger and disgust as he regarded Kaz. He wondered what had happened to the boss to make him stare at Kaz, at the world itself, with such hatred. 

Not that he cared, of course. Kaz kept his own piercing stare level, directing Rvalnir’s focus where he wanted it. Then Kaz slowly took his own knife in hand, removing it from its place hidden under his leg. 

Rvalnir blinked. Unlike Kaz, the boss had no time to dodge as Kaz brought the knife up, wedging it into the side of Rvalnir’s face. The blade slotted between his jaws; Kaz could hear it scrape against teeth.

Rvalnir gripped the handle with a startled cry, trying to remove the knife embedded in his flesh, but Kaz was faster. Whether it was from his mind returning to him or sheer adrenaline alone, Kaz pulled the knife away and stabbed Rvalnir again, leaning over the table as he jammed the blade into the skin below Rvalnir’s eye. The chains cut into his legs from the added pressure as Kaz angled himself forward, but he ignored the bite of pain.

Nothing could hurt him now, Kaz thought, eager and triumphant as Rvalnir tumbled to the floor with a pained howl. Rvalnir had denied Kaz his safety and his pride, but that would be true no longer. Kaz felt nearly euphoric as the boss slumped against the cold stone floor, trembling wildly, not yet dead but perhaps soon.

The card table had been cast aside by Rvalnir’s thrashing limbs, and the key to his chains was just out of grasp on the floor. Kaz gritted his teeth, barely able to reach for it, legs straining against the chains. 

His fingers slipped against the edge of the key. Kaz stretched impossibly further, the laceration on his wrist from the cuffs splitting open. He ignored the blood that welled there as he finally closed his fingers around the iron key, bringing it close to his chest, feeling all the nicks on the small piece of metal that would save his life.

From there, escape was simple. Kaz eyed Rvalnir carefully as he inserted the key into the locks on the chains, freeing his legs. The boss was still knocked out cold as Kaz stood, embracing caution, mindful of his bad leg and lack of movement over the past days.

Kaz nearly collapsed while trying to remain steady on his feet. He hissed through his teeth as he straightened his knee, trying to ignore the bone-deep pain there. 

Pain was unimportant. Kaz needed to kill Rvalnir and escape whatever place of captivity this was. 

Kaz bent over Rvalnir, pulling the knife from his flesh. The boss had gone entirely still, skin pale against the blood caking one side of his face. To guarantee his triumph, Kaz braced one hand against the floor and drove the knife straight through Rvalnir’s chest, skirting the edges of rib bones and piercing his weakened heart. 

Rvalnir was dead for certain. Kaz placed a hand on his chest, mindful to avoid contact with the boss’s skin. His heartbeat stuttered, frail and dying before it stilled. 

Kaz’s exhale of relief was jagged and it burned his chest. He staggered back from the corpse, collapsing back on his elbows. He let himself breathe, but only for a moment, before hauling himself back upright.

The door to the hall was unlocked, a move both sensible and foolish; none of the Fire Fliers had accounted for Kaz’s questionable ability to escape, but now he could flee with ease. Kaz stumbled outside of the dark room he’d been confined to, and found himself in a well-lit hallway filled with more than a dozen oil lamps. He squinted against the assault on his eyes, stumbling forward with a shoulder against the wall. Kaz nearly felt like he would collapse, but forced himself to keep going. He couldn’t afford to waste even a moment, unsure of when a Fire Flier would appear or learn what had happened to their boss. 

Rvalnir was dead. Kaz’s blood sang with victory. Soon he would be reunited with the Dregs, reemerging onto Ketterdam’s streets with the promise of vengeance burning in his heart-

A heavy blow struck him on the back of the head.

Kaz dropped like a stone, limbs sprawling against the floor. He scrambled to turn around, craning his neck to see Prenten, proud and tall as he stood over Kaz. In his hand was a pistol that had been used to strike Kaz and make him fall, rendering him unsteady and defenseless and _weak_ once more. 

Kaz’s blood stained the barrel of the gun. It was a sight he’d grown tired of seeing.

“You killed him,” came Prenten’s booming voice. Kaz stared up at the lieutenant, contemplating him without response. His vision doubled, splitting Prenten’s image until two men stood in front of him, both with a broad, proud stance and surly gaze.

Kaz’s freedom withered away as soon as it had been born. 

“I enjoyed every moment of it,” Kaz answered, knowing he had lost everything.

Prenten’s expression turned dark. Kaz was struck by the realization of how similar the lieutenant was to Rvalnir, their mannerisms nearly identical. Now the only great difference between them was that Prenten lived on while Rvalnir lay dead. Kaz wondered if Prenten would properly claim his role as boss of the Fire Fliers, instead of acting as the puppet of a twisted man.

Kaz wasn’t given the chance to ask. The pistol was aimed at Kaz’s head, readied to put a bullet in his skull. Prenten loomed over him, overcome by fury- or perhaps grief- as he glared at Kaz. 

Blood from the blow Kaz had been dealt pooled on the floor under his head, matting his hair. Kaz’s consciousness drained with it. He knew this would kill him unless Prenten chose to bestow some trivial act of mercy and shoot him dead, sprawled on his back instead of standing upright like a proper man. 

He had no energy to pull himself up. Every part of him was gone. 

Either way, Kaz knew he would not survive this. Killing a gang boss in Ketterdam came with the most dire of consequences, and Kaz had committed the act in the heart of enemy territory, leaving himself with no grand means of escape. There was nothing to be done for him. Death waited at every corner. Kaz had envisioned this moment countless times, but he’d never thought that life would leave him in such a way, tortured and crumbling and unable to even stand. 

Kaz’s only regret was that he didn’t have the chance to see Inej one last time. 

~--~

Kaz was disgruntled to find that, in whatever hellish afterlife awaited him, he was tied down to a chair once more.

Then he glanced around the room he was in, and felt his heart skip a beat. This was- no, it wasn’t possible. Kaz was returned to the room in which Rvalnir had taunted him, the same card table placed on the floor. This time, Kaz’s hands were chained down to the surface, able to move not an inch. His fingers trembled. 

Kaz tamped down his panic. He looked around wildly, but found no evidence of Rvalnir’s corpse, no cards, no opportunity to escape with the iron key. There were no bloodstains on the stone floor, even though the memory of striking Rvalnir through the heart was the most vivid Kaz had to cling to. 

And Kaz was still alive. That was impossible yet true. He’d expected to die; why had Prenten not killed him?

His breaths were shallow. Kaz could feel no blood or pain on the back of his head, nor any evidence that he’d been shot. And there was still something that remained forgotten, a fleeting recollection that hovered out of reach in his mind- something which could explain why Kaz was here, and where Rvalnir had gone. 

The door swung open silently. Kaz only noticed when the draft of cold air blew in. Light from that illuminated hall added to the lamps on the table, which had already been lit. 

When Rvalnir stepped before Kaz, his ability to breathe halted entirely. 

Kaz had encountered too many improbable things in his life. The gravest events that came to mind were his survival of both the Ice Court and Reaper’s Barge. But he could find no possible explanation for Rvalnir’s livelihood. Kaz watched the boss die, for hell’s sake, felt the way his life force faded away on a dying heartbeat.

But now Rvalnir was alive, face flushed with excitement, not a single shred of evidence to be found of his fatal stab wounds. Kaz rapidly searched his face for scars with increasing hysteria, but found none. There must have been Grisha employed in the Fire Fliers ranks, and a freak accident had occurred with the boss’s death which allowed him to be reborn.

“Welcome back, Mister Brekker,” said Rvalnir.

Kaz should have been the one saying that. He knew that there was horror twisting his expression, but he couldn’t force his demeanor into something even remotely neutral. Kaz had killed Rvalnir and now he was alive, they both were, even after Kaz expected death for them both.

“I visited Erijer just now,” he continued. “My lieutenant has been... indisposed over the past days, unconscious from the blows that were dealt to him.”

The Zentsbridge. Jesper’s return and Inej’s capture. Kaz had forgotten it all, somehow. He felt his mind slip over the edge of something horrific at the realization.

Kaz glanced down, unwilling to stare up at Rvalnir for even a moment longer. Apathy slammed into his soul, shrouding every thought and damned feeling he’d encountered in this place. He had been pulled from consciousness too quickly to anticipate Rvalnir’s next move, and fatigue washed over him, leading his awareness down a muddled path. 

There was a lead pipe in Rvalnir’s grasp. Kaz silently added it to the mental list of weapons and torture methods the boss employed. He wondered what Rvalnir might be planning, and found he could provide no answer to that question.

“I assure you, Brekker, that I haven’t overlooked the way you maimed my finest lieutenant.” Rvalnir’s eyes danced with cruelty, the curl of his lips both deranged and delighted. “The Healer I spoke to deemed his injuries irreparable. And I value fairness, Kaz Brekker. An eye for an eye, yes? Or, in this case,” he laughed, “a hand for a hand.”

Rvalnir raised the pipe. Kaz didn’t have a chance to shout, eyes wide as he realized, too late, what the boss intended to do.

His hands had been chained down for a reason.

When the pipe came down on the back of his hand, Kaz felt pain, pain like he had never known, worse even than the fall that broke his leg. Bones cracked under the metal, crushed into splinters that pierced his flesh. 

It was excruciating; Kaz felt like he was on fire. His hand was shattered, numb but also screeching with agony, and he might be screaming but he couldn’t be sure.

His head spun. The world tilted in and out of focus, and Kaz was ruined, because without the proper use of his hands he would never handle a set of lock picks or shuffle a deck of cards again, never fire a gun or throw a knife or shake on a deal. 

His leg and the cane were one thing. Kaz could fashion that injury to fit the nightmare persona he’d created. But this? There was nothing good that could come from a destroyed hand, nothing at all. 

Being broken was one thing. Kaz enjoyed it; such a thing suited him. What most people found at first glance of him was a cripple, a weakling easy to best and nothing more. They saw nothing of a nightmare, of the blackness in his eyes and mind. Brokenness was easy, another circumstance to add to the list, giving Kaz everything he had become. 

That was different from being completely shattered. 

“I’m just getting started, Kaz Brekker,” came Rvalnir’s voice, the sound fading in and out as Kaz came closer to unconsciousness. “Perhaps this will greaten your incentive for complacency. You’ll give me what I want in the end. I’m curious to see what more it might take to splinter your mind.” 

Then the world went black, taking everything with it, and blissfully Kaz felt nothing at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i still feel like the chapter was hopelessly confusing so: clearly(?) some of that wasn't.. yknow, actually real. but some was! my attempt was to blur the lines between hallucinations/reality. (at some point i will actually get into the specific workings of fantya veir? but for now have this fragmented mess of a chapter. although the erratic narrative structure was kind of the point bc a lot of that was what kaz's mind conjured up)  
> (and yes, this chapter felt slightly ooc BUT kaz is currently half out of his mind so *shrugs*)  
> i had zero idea of what I wanted for this chapter. it shows. but still i wanted to get something posted bc it's been 12 days :/  
> anyway! one day I'll stop oversharing in the notes. next chapter will actually be out within a week this time because I just want to get to the kanej reunion faster (lmao). i really do have a love-hate relationship (mainly love) with slow burns


	18. 18 ~ Inej

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crows attempt to learn more about _fantya veir_ , using their resources as best as possible. Inej worries over Kaz, and has a strange encounter on the street. More is revealed to them through a series of dangerous predicaments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2K hits on this fic!!! omg :D :D  
> also this chapter... man idek. i went into it with a 3-sentence outline and the hope that i could push it to 4K words. now i have an 11.3K chapter, the longest yet, and i *no* idea how it happened. this pacing and tone are very odd? i wrote it in many fragments and I'm pressed for time rn, so i only hope i, yknow, finished it lmaoo  
> i planned to have this chapter out like a week ago, but it got so long and that just wasn't going to happen  
> anyway! inej is very distraught here. the whole chapter is so dysfunctional. kaz/inej just need to see each other again :'( i know exactly how that reunion is gonna happen (and i love it tbqh), first I just need to pile on more angst/peril bc Why Not  
> enjoy, i hope. i did absolutely no proofreading lol oops

Inej woke from an uneasy sleep late in the morning. Almost instantly dread made itself known, twisting in her stomach and creeping up toward her heart. 

Kaz.

It had been five days since he was taken from them by the Fire Fliers, and Inej still hadn’t managed to adjust. She found herself glancing over her shoulder near-constantly, as if Kaz would manifest in the shadows with a sneer or arrogant smirk on his face. Inej searched for his presence everywhere. To her, Kaz and Ketterdam were the same; it was hideously wrong that Inej walked the streets without him. Kaz was part of the city, and it had shaped him in turn. Now he was just… _gone_ , leaving emptiness on the streets and in her heart. 

It was even possible that Kaz had been taken from Ketterdam altogether. Inej didn’t know. She could coax a million secrets out of any man foolish enough to face her, but she had no way of finding Kaz. It was an unfamiliar feeling, one Inej loathed.

When thoughts of his capture arose, when her imagination conjured even the barest image of what the Fire Fliers might be doing to him, Inej fought the urge to scream. She tried to block those thoughts out, forcing her mind down a different path, but failed each time.

The fear was taking its toll. Inej recognized that, but could do nothing to stop it. Sleep evaded her most nights, and she spent countless hours searching the city by moonlight, desperate for even a glimpse of Kaz. There had to be some evidence of his safety, of him being alive, that she had overlooked. 

If there was somehow a message he left for her, a means of escape, Inej missed it. That failure could cost Kaz his life. She could lose him for good. 

Inej needed to find him, needed Kaz safe as much as her lungs craved air and her soul sought adventure. She would not rest until Kaz was returned to her. And if he was not, if the Fire Fliers killed him and Inej never had the chance to speak to Kaz again, to scold him or laugh with him or keep him near… Inej would make Prenten suffer. 

She would bring the whole city crashing down. 

Inej remembered drifting to sleep around sunrise, succumbing to her exhaustion after having not slept for days. She stayed in the bedroom adjacent to Kaz’s office, now Anika’s, since it had been offered to her weeks ago. The new boss slept elsewhere, and Anika hadn’t yet asked for the room, so Inej kept it. Perhaps the gesture was selfish, but Inej wanted to be on the ground floor. That way, she would be the first to know if Kaz stumbled back to the Slat, alive and likely grumbling at them for having worried about him at all.

Inej almost laughed at the thought, but found she couldn’t. With a sigh, Inej slipped from the bed, hastily smoothing the blankets and folding them over at the top. 

She splashed water on her face from the basin in the corner and tried to brush away the last remnants of fatigue. It hardly worked; her eyes stung from lack of sleep, and her head still ached with exhaustion. 

Inej resolved to ignore the heavy feeling. She slipped into her quilted vest and pulled on a light grey coat overtop it. Winter’s clutch over the city was fading fast, but a bitter wind still remained. When she stepped out onto the street, having left her room in the Slat, that wind cut against her cheeks. 

Inej pulled up her collar and slipped into a narrow side street. The mouth of the alley was dark with shadows and grime, a perfect place to disappear. Inej avoided traveling on the streets when possible, greatly preferring the rooftops and open air to Ketterdam’s crowded streets. She pulled herself up on a window ledge and deftly slipped over the edge of a roof.

The cool air helped clear her mind, but only just so. Inej let her body run automatically, dodging chimneys and slippery roofs and the climbing spots she knew to be trickier than average. Her mind was worlds away. 

On instinct, Inej checked for her knives; one was sheathed on each of her forearms, the others strapped to her chest, another on her thigh. All were concealed well, especially the small blade tucked in her boot. She kept that dagger, sharpest of them all, for the most dire circumstances.

There were few weaponsmiths in Ketterdam willing to manufacture a blade so small, barely longer than Inej’s hand. But she managed to track down a smith whose workshop was located on the western outskirts of Ketterdam. He was an old man with dull eyes and hands so shaky he could barely work the furnace, but Inej bargained a decent price for the small knife and a second, identical blade. 

She gifted the dagger’s twin to Kaz as a means of repaying him for her first blade, Sankt Petyr, that he’d given her. Inej remembered how he stared at her without comprehension, his dark eyes cold and almost confused.

“For you,” Inej whispered, the dagger in hand. They’d been working together for almost a year at the time. “It’s payment for the first one you gave me- Sankt Petyr.” Its hilt had grown comfortable in her right hand, almost like an extension of her arm.

Kaz went oddly still. “That wasn’t a debt,” he’d rasped.

“I don’t care,” Inej replied. “Take it. I already have mine, and I don’t have use for both.” Technically a lie, one she told anyway.

Kaz accepted the blade, its hilt passing from her hand to his black-gloved one. Anyone else might have thanked her, but Inej knew those words would never come, so instead she asked “What will you name it?”

The shadow of a smirk appeared on his face. “Nothing. Unlike you, I don’t place so much importance on my weapons.”

Inej threw a pointed glance in the direction of his cane, which she’d rarely seen him without. “You do for that one.”

Kaz’s smugness had faded at that. “It’s convenient,” he dismissed. “You’re too reliant on your knives. I could do without the cane.” 

“I doubt that.” Something had given Inej the courage to defy him in whatever small way possible. And she still wondered, years later, if Kaz had almost laughed at the response. It seemed as if he wanted to.

Kaz left Inej in the alley with her gift sheathed carefully at his belt. As far as Inej knew, he’d carried it ever since.

Inej shook her head at the memory. There were too many reminders of Kaz everywhere she looked. Normally the thought would fill her with a strange warmth, but now she just felt cold and afraid.

Eventually Inej came to a halt. She found herself on a familiar rooftop that faced the West Stave. The canal water sparkled in the afternoon light, three stories down from where Inej stood. The adjacent street was packed with shoppers and pedestrians, all their interactions light-hearted. This street was too far from the heart of the Barrel for anyone to be truly on edge; no one constantly glanced over their shoulder, and no hands were pressed protectively against wallets. 

Inej had visited this roof countless times throughout her years in Ketterdam. It was quiet and peaceful, with ample space to spread out. She leaned against the crooked stone chimney, coated in ash, and allowed her eyes to drift shut. 

The sunlight was warm on her face, countering the frigid wind. Inej took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly.

She would rest here for a moment. Inej had already scoured the Zelver and Financial Districts twice, speaking with some of her old contacts, but the subtle questions she asked them revealed nothing. Inej knew she would have to be careful and find Kaz alone, wary of any other gangs that might be listening. 

Inej planned her route for the day in her mind. She needed to explore the Government District next. The region was crowded with Kerch officials that were easy to bribe. She could learn from them about any recent arrests that were noteworthy, or any sign of illegal drugs being shipped into the city. 

Inej pulled one of her daggers from its sheath, spinning the bone handle between her fingers as she thought. Perhaps she would access the Dregs records as well for shipments that passed between each of the harbors. Kaz was her priority, but there was still work to be done. If- when- Kaz returned, Inej knew he would expect his gang to be well-maintained and well-informed as always. 

She looked at the crowd on the street below. There was a vendor selling _cetiva_ flowers near a bakery with open windows. Inej could smell the fresh bread and coffee from where she sat. A young couple strolled by with a child trotting between them, neck craned up to look at the storefronts. A man clambering out of his boat nearly tumbled into the canal, and those around him laughed at the sight. 

Strange, how alienated Inej felt from the brightness in these strangers’ lives. Ketterdam had never given her anything close to comfort, yet here it seemed that danger was but a distant dream. Between the sunlight, clean streets and jovial chatter, Inej almost didn’t recognize the city, dark and crooked as she knew it to be. 

Inej soon noticed a familiar face in the crowd. Wylan was approaching the building Inej perched on, quickly making his way through the crowd. She watched as he dodged people on the street until he reached the storefront. Then he made his way to the back of the store, where a pile of crates in the alley allowed him to access the second floor. From there he awkwardly pulled himself onto a windowsill, and soon reached the chimney where Inej sat. 

Wylan’s cheeks were flushed above the collar of his navy coat, and his blue eyes were sharp as he regarded her. His chest rose slightly with each breath, which fogged in front of his face from the cold. 

“How did you find me?” Inej asked. She hadn’t expected this place to be discovered. So few people were able to truly see her, especially when she did not want to be found.

Except for Kaz. 

“Ah, Nina told me you like to come here to think,” Wylan explained. He sat down and crossed his arms, leaning his elbows on his knees. Then he folded his hands in his lap instead, posture stiff with uncertainty. Inej understood that he was at a loss for what exactly he could say to her. 

Inej tried to summon a smile. There was no feeling behind it, which must have been clear to Wylan, whose brows furrowed in concern. “Kaz and I have spent hours on this roof,” she told him. “For stakeouts and jobs and to spend quiet moments together.”

“Tell me about it,” Wylan offered. “If you want to.” 

She struggled to find the right words. Few came to mind. “We come to this roof together very rarely,” Inej began. “But our time spent here is valuable. We get to escape ourselves and the world.” 

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

Inej kept her gaze fixed on the horizon. Wind blew across the rooftops, ruffling Wylan’s curls and pulling some of her hair free from its loose braid. “All our lives are chaotic,” she tried to explain. “That is Ketterdam’s design. But on this rooftop, Kaz and I can lose all our responsibility. We have no obligation to be Dirtyhands and the Wraith. To me, that’s a beautiful thing.” 

“That sounds really nice,” Wylan told her, quiet and gentle. 

“Once we even sat up here and talked about nothing at all for hours. Kaz just counted the passing canal boats as I made up meaningless stories about the people riding in them.” Inej’s heart twisted. Her laugh got caught in her throat. “Nearly three hundred boats passed before Per Haskell summoned Kaz for a job. I don’t think either of us have ever taken that much time at once to just be still. To exist quietly and do nothing- to simply be.” 

Inej knew she would remember that day forever. Kaz had gone so quiet, his brooding melancholy seeping into her own soul. It was a dreary morning, dark storm clouds melding with factory smog overhead. Inej had asked him to come to this roof, and he obliged. 

They took the long route through the city streets and spoke not a word to each other until they were both reclined against the chimney. Inej beat him to the top. When she smiled at the little victory, Kaz stared at her for a long while. Something in his expression softened, and for a moment, he looked almost kind. 

At the time, Inej hadn’t known what that look meant. She still didn’t know for certain, but she had her suspicions. 

Inej watched Kaz return to himself slowly. His eyes brightened as the sun rose, spilling morning light onto the clouds above their heads. Some of the darkness was driven away from both of them, a shared burden lifting. 

Inej felt the urge to speak, then, so she murmured to Kaz about whatever came to mind. Each response Kaz gave arrived in terse, blunt phrases, but it was better than nothing. Sometimes he was lost entirely to silence; Inej was too. But they always found their way back. 

She never asked him what had happened that day, what went wrong. Such a thing was rare; for her and Kaz, the space between them was heavy with unspoken words and unanswered questions. Inej simply offered company and the chance for him to be listened to.

Perhaps someday, they would speak of everything that had gone unsaid. 

When they finally left the rooftop on that day, Inej remembered feeling lighter than she had in weeks. The tension in Kaz’s shoulders had lessened by the time they returned to the Slat. And when they left each other, Inej thought there was more gratitude in Kaz’s shallow nod to her than what met the eye. 

Wylan let Inej mull over her thoughts and memories for what could have been a minute or an hour. Time was lost to her. Eventually he cleared his throat and spoke. “We can stay here if you want to. Although Anika planned for us to meet today and discuss our path forward.”

Their plan to rescue Kaz, he didn’t say. Inej stared at Wylan in alarm. “We didn’t have to stay here. You could have told me the others were expecting us.” 

“They can wait. It’s alright, Inej. We can do whatever you’d like.” 

Everyone was treating Inej like she was delicate, erring on the side of caution whenever Kaz was mentioned. She understood the sentiment— was even grateful for it, as out of control as she felt— but at the same time anger flared within Inej; at herself or the others, she didn’t know. 

Inej stood quickly, brushing soot from her pants. “Where are we meeting?” 

Wylan scrambled up and nearly slipped off the edge of the roof. Inej held out a hand to steady him. “At the safehouse on Geldstraat. Anika wanted to ensure we aren’t overheard at the Slat.” 

“If the other gangs learn of Kaz’s capture, it will bring chaos,” Inej murmured. 

“Exactly,” Wylan agreed with a grim nod. 

At that, Inej climbed down from the roof, landing on the street with ease. Wylan followed her with some clumsiness, nearly slipping again, unaccustomed to navigating amongst rooftops and window sills and walls. It was no help that one of Wylan’s arms was bandaged from a past fall, but he managed to climb down safely, joining Inej on the street. 

They walked side by side to the safehouse in companionable silence, neither holding the obligation to speak. Inej was grateful for Wylan’s presence. It brought her comfort amongst the fear and dread spinning in her mind that threatened to unbalance her completely. 

Soon they reached the safehouse, concealed behind the side door of an abandoned tavern. The city council had set the building for destruction; the property was recently purchased by a greedy mercher. Still, the back room would serve the Dregs until they were driven out and forced to relocate. 

Wylan walked ahead of Inej and paused with his hand on the door handle. He turned to her with an odd look on his face. “You know,” he began, the words stilted, “I understand what you’re feeling right now. It- it can be overwhelming. When you were with Jesper at the Stronghold, and I wasn’t sure what had happened to either of you, the fear almost destroyed me.” 

Inej didn’t know what to say to that. She stared at Wylan and hoped he would continue. 

He did. “I just wanted you to know that holding onto hope is all you can do, despite how easy it is to give that up.” Wylan’s blue eyes were impossibly deep as he stared at her. It hit Inej, then, how much he’d aged since she was last in Ketterdam. “Jesper returned to me, despite how terrible the odds were. Soon, Kaz will do the same for you.”

“But this is-” Inej shook her head and clamped her lips shut in an attempt to maintain her dignity and composure. 

Inej wanted to tell Wylan that she and Kaz weren’t like that. But that wasn’t exactly the truth, even though Inej hated admitting it to herself. She also thought that the two situations were different entirely, which wasn’t exactly fair to Wylan. Inej had been there at the Stronghold; she’d frantically tried to keep Jesper alive, heard the last words he wanted her to tell Wylan. 

They had all faced great peril, but selfishly, Kaz’s absence felt so much worse to Inej.

“Thank you, Wylan,” she settled on. It was evident that Wylan knew she was holding back, but nodded anyway, then pulled the door open to usher her inside. 

The interior of the bar was dark with patches of dusty sunlight, all of the tables and chairs covered with old cloths. Wylan led the way to the side door, pulling it open with a low creak. Inej quickly glanced around to ensure they weren’t being watched, then followed Wylan through to the main room of the safehouse, firmly shutting the door behind her. 

The safehouse was lit by low candlelight, which cast flickering shadows along the walls of the slightly cramped space. In the corner was a large wooden trunk used to hold food, extra weapons and clothes, and a few bedrolls. 

Jesper sat cross-legged on the floor, hands resting on his knees, fingers tapping against his pants. Wylan went straight to him. He dropped down at Jesper’s side and planted a kiss on his cheek. 

Nina leaned against the far wall, eyes fixed on the candles. She seemed to be lost in thought, but brightened when she saw Inej and approached her immediately. 

“Nina,” Inej greeted. A smile crept up on her face. 

“Inej,” she said in return with just as much warmth. When Nina got close enough to see her properly, she frowned. “When was the last time you slept?” she demanded. Her eyes were filled with worry.

“This morning,” Inej said truthfully.

“Clearly not enough. Come sit, we’re still waiting for Anika.”

They both sat down on the floor across from Wylan and Jesper, who gave her a little wave. “Where is she?” Inej asked.

“Anika got tied up at the Crow Club,” Jesper answered. “There was a brawl, I believe. One of the men started throwing tables.”

“They’re all drunks and brutes,” Nina said with a distasteful sound. Wylan nodded in agreement, then rested his head on Jesper’s shoulder. 

It was impossible to ignore Kaz’s absence. Inej knew they all felt it. Kaz would likely have said little or nothing if he was in the room, but it still felt wildly wrong that he wasn’t here, glowering at everyone from the corner.

When Jesper caught her eye, it seemed he was thinking the exact same. 

They passed the time with small talk until Anika arrived. She burst through the door ceremoniously, hair windswept and expression vexed. Under one arm was a thick black book- one of the Crow Club ledgers, Inej knew. Kaz only kept the physical records for when he was accused of falsifying the club’s earnings. 

“I see you had trouble,” came Jesper’s greeting to her.

“‘Trouble’ is an understatement,” Anika grumbled. “One of the bartenders tried to grab a little more _kruge_ than he earned, and then one of the usual pigs got mad about who the hell knows what.” She shook her head aggressively. “Now I know why Kaz is so pissed off all the time. Hell, when he comes back, I’ll give him a hug and thank him for dealing with all this shit.” 

“He would probably kill you for that,” said Jesper mildly. 

Anika shrugged. “Probably. But I could put up a decent fight.” Then she glanced at Inej. “Sorry, that was in bad taste. I know there’s business to settle. Now, we have a supply of _fantya_ and a missing boss. What’s the plan?”

They all stared at her expectantly. “You’re the boss,” Wylan eventually said. His voice rose at the end as if it were a question.

“Only for six days!” Anika protested. “I’m not some scheming mastermind like Kaz, I can’t just pull elaborate plans out of thin air.” 

“Alright,” Nina said. “We don’t need Kaz for this. We’ll start with a map and note the locations where each murder occurred.”

“Add to that the Merchant Councilman’s place of disappearance,” Jesper said. He flipped open the old trunk and pulled out a roll of maps, as well as extra papers and more candles. “We should also consider that Prenten met me and Kaz on the Zentsbridge. After that, we’ll mark where Kaz first noticed the Fire Fliers.”

“The warehouse he was taken from is near The Menagerie,” Inej chimed in quietly.

Nina scowled at the mention of the place. “When I spoke to one of the Fire Fliers at a bar weeks ago, we were in the Warehouse District.”

Anika squeezed her eyes shut and ran a weary hand across her face. “I need to see it on a map, but based on that alone, it seems as if the Fire Fliers have spread all across the city.”

“I agree,” Inej said. “They have no central area of control.” It was odd and worrisome; all of the Barrel’s gangs fought over territory with brutality. The Fire Fliers should have done the same, but had not. 

“Then we’ll look and see where the Fire Fliers haven’t gone,” said Wylan. He leaned toward the map, which Jesper had spread across the floor. The corners were weighted down with unused candlesticks. Wylan’s eyes raked over the page without focusing on any of the labels. “They could be trying to keep the Dregs distant from their main point of operation.” 

“And that will be where I continue my search for Kaz,” Inej said. Something that felt like real hope bloomed in her chest. However cunning the Fire Fliers were, however smart, no one could be outsmarted by the Dregs.

Especially not once Kaz was returned to them. 

“My only question concerns _fantya veir_ ,” Nina said. “The rest will be fairly simple, I think. But beyond the information the Stronghold spy gave us, we have next to nothing.”

“We do have the samples of _fantya_ ,” Jesper said with a frown, “but none of us understand it. I tried to bring one of the scientists at the Stronghold with us. He was killed, but…” he trailed off. “Now, wait a moment. Anika, where is the bag Keeg gave you that holds the _fantya_?”

“Locked in a safe, that’s secured in a bigger safe, in the office,” she answered. “No one is touching those drugs unless I let them. What about it?” 

“I’d forgotten about the files in that bag. Inej put Stronghold financial records in there, along with some of the scientist’s notes.” 

“Damn,” said Anika. She stood, rolling out her shoulders. “Maybe there’s hope for us after all. I’ll bring the files here, just to ensure that no one overhears us at the Slat.” Her gaze flicked over to Inej as she said it. 

Anika left with a promise to return soon. Then the room was blanketed in silence once more. Inej watched as one of the candle flames sputtered and died, and walked over to it, striking a match to return the light. 

Jesper was bent over the map, studying it intensely. He marked certain buildings with pen as Wylan watched. Nina occasionally mentioned a new point that should be added.

Inej surveyed their efforts and contributed little, her mind miles away from the work. She felt strangely detached from her body, and the candlelight played tricks on her mind, casting monstrous shadows across the ceiling and walls.

Inej blinked hard. The exhaustion was continuing to weaken her, both in body and mind. She tried to push the feeling away.

She wasn’t sure how much time passed before Anika returned. The satchel of files was strapped to her shoulder and hidden protectively under her coat. “Bad news,” Anika said. She gently placed the bag of _fantya_ on the trunk and stripped off her coat. “At the Slat, one of the Dregs asked to see Kaz.”

“What did you tell them?” Jesper asked. 

“The same as before- that Kaz is on a job, and he’s out of contact. But Dirix was there, and he seemed suspicious. I left before he could question me too much.”

“Do you think he knew you were lying?” Jesper questioned, his gray eyes concerned. 

“I put him in place. But depending on how long it takes us to find Kaz, I don’t know if I can maintain the ruse.”

That bleak prediction compelled them to continue working. Inej pulled the satchel toward her and flipped it open, setting the vials of _fantya_ aside to reveal a thick stack of files. Most of the stray papers were folded into the scientist’s leather-bound journal. Inej opened the front cover to find that each page was covered in rows upon rows of cramped writing. She squinted at the words, which were meaningless. “It’s encoded,” she announced. 

“Of course,” Jesper sighed.

Nina took the journal from her. “Do you recognize it?” Inej asked.

She shook her head. “I’ve always been better with spoken languages. But this one looks similar to a subset of the Ravkan alphabets. Although it means nothing to me.” 

Jesper picked up a stray piece of paper and scanned it. “This is written in Kerch,” he said. “Observations about one of the… test subjects.” His expression darkened. From what they witnessed at the Stronghold, Inej knew the file’s contents could be nothing good.

“We’ll start with what we can actually read, then move onto the coded documents,” Anika decided. “I can start on a cipher. Nina, the libraries at the university will be closed soon enough, but tomorrow you can search for sources that might help us with the sections we can’t read.” 

Nina agreed, then passed a stack of files to Inej and Jesper. Wylan began to look over the map for patterns among the locations. Inej flipped through the file at the top of her stack, as did the others. 

And so the work began.

~--~ 

The candlesticks had burned down low by the time Inej looked up from her papers. 

She knew that hours had passed since everyone began searching through the Stronghold files. Inej could feel the tension in her neck and shoulders from hours bent over the paperwork. Fatigue pulled at the corners of her eyes. Daring a quick glance around the room, Inej could see that everyone would soon succumb to the same lethargy. Anika’s head kept tipping forward, and Jesper was rubbing at his eyes near-constantly. 

Nina flung a stack of papers onto the pile in the center of the room, which was a collection of all the useful documents they’d reviewed. There were too few; most of the files were encoded. Anika had yet to find a key. 

“This feels hopeless,” Jesper spoke. His voice was rough. “Most of the files are bureaucratic. They don’t reveal anything about the hallucinogen’s workings, only how prisoners were distributed and tested.” 

“We have no way of knowing exactly what happens when someone is dosed with _fantya_ ,” Inej agreed. “Even if these notes were fully completed, that would pale in comparison to witnessing a victim’s experience firsthand.”

“I would do it,” said Jesper. Wylan looked up sharply from the map.

Inej hesitated. “Do what, exactly?”

“Drink a vial of _fantya_ in order to see what happens.” 

In the space of less than a heartbeat, everyone’s resounding protests swept through the room. “Jesper!” Wylan yelled, his voice rising above the rest. “You could die!” 

“Not if I took a small dose!” Jespe fired back. “Just enough to understand it.”

“That’s much too dangerous, Jesper,” Nina said with alarm. “We know so little about the drug.”

“I understand, but we can’t risk it,” Inej added. She would be willing to do the same if it gave the Dregs even the slightest bit of control over the situation with _fantya veir_ , but for now, that would be too treacherous to attempt. 

“Alright! I won’t,” Jesper muttered. Then, more loudly, “I know it’s foolish. I just- it’s more likely than not that this is exactly what Kaz is going through as we speak.”

Inej stilled. She hadn’t thought of that. How was that something she overlooked? Inej had imagined countless other possibilities, but not _this_. 

For a moment, it was hard to breathe. Dread froze in her chest like the coldest of ice.

Jesper winced when he looked at her. “It’s just speculation, really,” he said, perhaps trying to console her, but too late. Inej hated this, all the uncertainty and the frustration it caused. Her anger made Inej feel out of control, and it was slowly becoming more difficult to reign in her temper. 

She was aware enough of herself to know that the anger stemmed from fear, but both feelings continued to rage inside her. Inej knew that she needed to leave this place, restlessness itching beneath her skin at the thought of Kaz. In her mind she saw him bloodied and dead, an image that made her stomach turn.

They had survived too much together for Kaz to die before she could see him again. 

Inej stood too abruptly and almost collapsed back on the floor. Exhaustion crashed into her like a great wave. Her head spun and her vision darkened. She swayed on her feet, and surely would have fallen if not for Jesper’s grip on her shoulders. 

“Inej, what happened?” he was saying. The sound seemed to echo. 

Her eyes drifted shut, the lids heavier than stone. Inej struggled to make her mouth work. “I don’t think she’s truly slept in days,” Nina answered for her in a hushed tone. “She’s been searching for Kaz almost constantly.” 

“You need sleep,” Jesper told Inej.

“I need to find Kaz.” 

“We both do. And the best way to achieve that is to rest. You’ll be stronger afterward, and that makes you more useful.”

Inej didn’t have the heart to argue with him. “Alright,” she conceded. It felt like a bitter defeat.

Jesper kept a hand on her shoulder, then reached down to pick up the bedroll. She followed him into the main room of the tavern, where he unrolled it in the corner. Inej heard him pull the shades down over the front windows. The room darkened, and it seemed to be night.

Inej lay down on the bedroll, ignoring the way her shoulder dug into the wooden floorboards through the thin material of the cloth. Jesper stood above her, his expression unreadable. 

Inej blinked at him. “I hope we can get Kaz back,” Jesper whispered to her. There was fear in his voice that she hadn’t noticed before.

_As do I_ , Inej almost said. She was asleep before she had the chance. 

~--~

A clamor of voices awoke her.

When Inej opened her eyes, she felt more clear-headed than she had in days. The shades were still drawn over the windows, which made it impossible to tell how long Inej had slept, but it must have been several hours. She got up quickly and rolled up the cushion she’d slept on, then headed for the safehouse room. 

Jesper was making his way through a jumbled, excitable explanation when he saw her. “Inej!” he greeted lightly. “Anika cracked the code- for one of the journal sections, at least. Nina visited the university earlier and managed to find a book that can help us.” 

“We’ve only just started to translate it,” said Anika. She seemed greatly pleased. 

“I’m glad,” Inej beamed. The smile on her face felt real for the first time in days. “How long was I asleep?”

Anika glanced at her pocket watch, which had been unlinked from her belt and placed on the trunk so that everyone could read the time. “Almost twelve hours.”

“Twelve? You should have woken me.”

“Nonsense,” Nina said. She glanced at Inej in approval. “You seem less like you’ll fall asleep where you stand.”

“I feel that way,” Inej replied. “Now, what can I do?” 

“The work will go faster if we all start out decoding different sections,” Jesper said. He passed a stack of journal pages to her. “Wylan has been studying the map. He left hours ago to see what he could learn from gossip around town.” 

“By the time he returns, we might actually have valid intel to work with,” Anika said. “This is real progress. Now let’s get to work.” 

It was a frustrating effort. The code used at the Stronghold was complex, and parts of it shifted frequently throughout the journal. Inej marked what she could and left the rest to be translated. The details that came together were horrific, spelling out descriptions of the behavior _fantya_ induced.

Inej found that she was distracted from the work. Seated across from her, Jesper was acting strangely. His restless behavior wasn’t entirely abnormal, but now it seemed impossible for him to be still.

His gaze flickered around the room. Inej caught his eye, tilting her head in a silent question to ask if he was alright. Jesper waved a dismissive hand at her, and after that, he kept himself more still.

Inej almost asked about his behavior aloud, but she held herself back. It felt too invasive. They were all on edge, and similar to her own self, Inej knew Jesper had taken the news of Kaz’s capture hard. That explained his restlessness. They were all fighting against time, and with each day that passed, the chance of Kaz’s safety lessened.

Later, Inej would wish she had asked.

Wylan returned with some news, which he quickly summed up. Most of the people in Ketterdam were afraid, growing distrustful of their neighbors. _Stadwatch_ centers were flooded with frantic citizens that came to report strange behaviors or incidents they claimed to be related.

“The families of the victims have retreated from the public eye,” Wylan reported. “Some have gone into hiding. A fund was started for the murderers that aren’t already dead to be executed.” 

“That helps nothing,” Inej said, shaking her head. “These people were drugged. They did not intend to kill.” 

“Only us and the Fire Fliers know that,” Anika said. “Everyone will spiral further into panic if they learn people are being drugged.” 

They all went silent, contemplating that. “Sit with me,” Jesper said to Wylan. “I’ll tell you all the horrible stories of what the Stronghold is doing.”

Wylan scoffed a laugh at that, but accepted the offer. Aside from Jesper’s quiet murmurs to Wylan, they worked in silence. 

Eventually Wylan turned away to look at the map. Jesper glanced up as Inej watched him discreetly.

One moment, Jesper was pouring over a file, scrawling down translations in a small book. Then he stood and walked over to the wooden trunk. The next instant, his hand jerked toward the case of _fantya_ doses. Jesper’s long fingers closed around the vial nearest to him, removing the cap. 

Inej realized what he was going to do just before it happened. “Jesper!” she cried out, immediately capturing everyone’s attention. They all watched in grim fascination as Jesper tipped the vial and knocked back its contents in one swallow, as if he were draining a bottle of cheap liquor and not a potentially lethal drug. 

Wylan’s face whitened. Nina leapt to her feet and flung out a desperate hand. Inej realized, with a wrench of sorrow, that Nina tried to call on her lost Heartrender power in a hopeless attempt to keep Jesper from swallowing the _fantya_.

Inej had risen to her feet without realizing it. None of them moved. Jesper was just as still, the glass vial in his grasp now empty. It slipped from his hand and crunched against the wood floor, a sound of devastating finality. 

For a moment, Jesper regarded them with bleary eyes. He swayed on his feet. “I had to!” he said thickly. “We need to know what happens. I’m fine, I promise you. I don’t even feel anythi-” and with that, his eyes rolled backward as he slumped toward the ground.

Wylan was at his side in an instant, scrambling to catch Jesper so that he didn’t collapse and hit his head. He slowly lowered them both to the floor until Jesper’s long limbs were sprawled on the floorboards and his head was cradled in Wylan’s lap. His eyelids fluttered, fingers twitching at his sides. 

Wylan’s legs were folded awkwardly beneath him, and one of Jesper’s shoulders dug into his knee, but Wylan showed no sign of discomfort; he was preoccupied with scanning Jesper’s face. A string of half-curses spilled from Wylan’s lips, unwilling to let actual expletives slip out, even in a situation like this. 

Hands shaking, Wylan looked up at Inej with wide, fearful eyes. A suppressive quiet had settled over all of them, stiff and dark like dead things. Inej was still trying to process what she had just witnessed as everyone tried to do the same.

“He just-” Nina shook her head in awe at the vial of _fantya_ that slipped from Jesper’s fingers, cracked on the glass edge. “He didn’t even hesitate. Saints, I tried to stop him.”

“We can’t reverse the effects,” Anika murmured. “Shit. All we can do now is wait it out and see what happens when he wakes up.”

“Why would you do that?” Wylan murmured, half to the unconscious Jesper and half to himself. 

“He wasn’t thinking,” Nina offered.

“Evidently,” Anika said, disgruntled. “We should move him to a bedroll and see what happens from there.” 

“I’m afraid to find out exactly what that means,” Nina whispered. Wylan closed his eyes at her words and intertwined his fingers with Jesper’s, still trembling faintly. 

Jesper had gone so unnaturally still.

~--~

Anika kept a dutiful record of the time that passed. “Six hours,” she announced.

Jesper had yet to move even once in the time since he’d taken the _fantya_. Even when they’d moved him to a bedroll in an attempt to make him slightly more comfortable, he showed no signs of lucidity. Sweat beaded on his brow and dripped down his cheek before Wylan wiped it away with a cloth.

The process continued for another hour. Jesper remained unconscious, and Wylan’s worry grew more apparent by the minute. Anika and Nina worked through the journal, Inej trying her best to do the same. But she was distracted, and found herself gazing at Jesper in an attempt to gauge if he would wake up.

After several more minutes, Jesper moved for the first time. It was a minuscule shift of his head, but they all watched fervently, so the movement was noticed at once. “Jesper?” Wylan asked. “Can you hear me?”

Jesper stilled for a moment, then tossed his head. The tendons in his neck strained. Wylan tried to calm him to no avail; Jesper grew increasingly agitated, his hands twisting at his sides.

“I don’t know what to do for him,” Wylan said helplessly, the first words he’d spoken in hours. Horror remained sharp in his expression as he watched Jesper.

“We just have to wait it out,” Anika murmured. She’d been repeating it like a mantra, perhaps trying to reassure them that there would be an end to this. 

When that end would come, Inej didn’t know. 

Jesper remained in that state for several hours. His movements became frightening, all his muscles tense as he writhed. His pain must be excruciating, whatever the _fantya_ was making him see. Inej’s heart twisted at the sight.

Even more time passed, and the minutes crept along at an agonizing pace. Eventually Jesper stilled, his shoulders slumping against the floor. Wylan pressed a frantic hand to Jesper’s chest to feel for a heartbeat. “His heart is racing,” Wylan mumbled. “This could kill him. We need a medik, someone that can fix this-” 

“Wylan,” Anika said. Her voice came out too quiet. “No medik will know how to help him. And no one else can know about _fantya veir_. I- I’m sorry.” 

It was a devastating truth. “We can’t just let him die!” Wylan shouted. “We-”

Several things happened at once.

Jesper bolted upright then doubled over with a gasp, nearly breaking Wylan’s nose in the process. His pupils were tiny, centered on glazed, unseeing eyes. He reached for one of the revolvers on his belt, mouth open in a pained, fearful grimace.

Inej’s eyes widened. She dove forward and gripped his forearm, wrenching the weapon upward. He’d been aiming at some invisible foe in front of them, but Inej directed the barrel to the ceiling. A bullet shot through the plaster, its trajectory safely diverted from the rest of them. 

Nina was shouting. Anika wrestled the revolver from Jesper’s grip and knocked it onto the floor a careful distance away. Wylan tossed Jesper’s other revolver in the same direction, trying to capture his attention. “It’s not real,” Wylan said over and over. He had a death grip on Jesper’s right arm as Inej continued to hold the left. 

“Keep him still!” Anika yelled out the order. She snatched the guns and unloaded the bullets from them, the brass casings placed in her coat. 

“He’s going to hurt himself,” Nina said. Jesper was struggling like he’d gone mad. He cried out, desperate to break free from their grasp. Inej kept him pinned, shifting her weight to try and still him.

“Jes,” Wylan pleaded. “It’s not real. Please, wake up.” 

Jesper continued to fight them. _Let this end_ , Inej prayed. Jesper didn’t deserve any of this, even though he’d inflicted this state on himself voluntarily. The empty vial of _fantya_ was still on the floor. It seemed to mock them. 

Every moment until Jesper returned to unconsciousness was agony. Wylan looked like the world was ending- perhaps it was. Jesper drifted back to sleep, a mess of tears and sweat on his face. 

Sorrow blanketed Wylan as he stared at Jesper. _Why would you do it_ , Inej almost asked, even though Jesper would be unable to hear or answer. 

Four more hours passed before Jesper began to stir. His eyes slowly opened, now a clearer gray. He blinked blearily, gaze landing on Wylan first. “What happened?” he asked, voice like stone from all his screams.

“You don’t remember?” Nina asked.

“I feel like I’ve been shot several times,” Jesper said. “But no, I don’t remember.” 

“You took _fantya veir_ ,” Wylan told him. His voice trembled. He grabbed onto Jesper’s hand and held it tight.

Jesper stared up at him. “I don’t- I don’t exactly remember that. I know I wanted to, but then I forgot. I saw…” he closed his eyes and did not continue.

He took a shallow breath. “By the Saints,” Jesper croaked. He sat up and gripped Wylan tightly, as if he would drift away without the feeling of his hands on Wylan’s collar. Wylan cradled his face, and their foreheads were pressed together. 

“You’re alright,” Wylan whispered to soothe him, the words nearly inaudible.

Jesper gripped his chest with one hand, the other still anchored to Wylan, his nails digging into the fabric of his shirt. “Saints,” Jesper repeated, his voice hoarse. Each breath was unsteady with the last remnants of panic. 

“What in all hell was that?” Anika asked softly. Her chin rested on folded hands.

“I’m not sure if I want to know,” Nina mumbled. Inej nodded, her heart racing.

“It was horrible,” Jesper said after a moment. His voice broke. “It felt like a dream, except I was in real danger. I was being chased, and they almost-” he broke off with a shudder.

“You don’t have to explain,” Wylan told him gently.

Jesper nodded wearily. It seemed as if he had aged a century upon waking. “I’ll write down what happened when it’s all less… vivid.” 

Then Jesper looked up at them. His demeanor transformed; his eyes were like molten steel, and a sudden strength was returned to him. “I don’t regret it,” he said.

“All that? Maybe you should,” Nina said, her tone quiet. “You didn’t see it, Jesper. You could have died.” 

Jesper shrugged, the gesture heavy, as if a great burden had settled on his shoulders. “I’d do it again. Better me to experience _that_ than any of you.” 

Wylan stood abruptly at that. Anger slashed across his features like lightning; it was strange to see such an expression on his kind face. “You- you can’t just-” he sputtered. With a ferocious shake of his head Wylan pulled away from Jesper and rushed to leave the room.

Jesper remained seated on the floor in bewilderment. He sat there for a moment, still and stunned, before he followed Wylan out on unsteady legs. 

“Should we- ?” Nina seemed at a loss.

“Leave them be,” Inej said. She felt that the three of them should not be present for whatever Jesper and Wylan had to say to each other.

Anika fiddled with the edge of her sleeve, arms folded against her chest. She tipped her head back against the wall with a heavy sigh. “I don’t know… alright. I suppose we should continue our work. There’s still too much of this journal that needs to be translated.”

Nina pouted, but reached for a new stack of papers. Her normal confidence seemed shaken, but Inej appreciated the attempt at normalcy. “After today, I think I’ll never read again.”

Staring down at the jumbled mess of words before her, Inej couldn’t help but feel the same.

~--~

They worked until they ran out of candles, the absence of light making it impossible to continue. 

This safehouse was intended only for a brief stay, and certainly not for more than two people. Anika used the last of their minimal food rations, rattling the tin then tossing it aside. It hid the corner of the trunk with a metallic clunk. 

“There’s no reason to stay in here anymore,” Anika announced. “I can finish the rest of the translations alone at the Slat. I’ll keep it discreet- no one will bother me.” 

“We’ve been here much too long,” Nina said in agreement. “There’s a bakery just across the street. Inej, come with me. We’ve earned real food after all this.” She waved her hand at the papers piled messily on the floor.

Inej laughed. “Of course I will. Afterward, I’d like to look for Jesper and Wylan.”

Nina winced. The two hadn’t returned to the safehouse after Wylan stormed out. Inej hoped they were alright, especially Jesper. It was a difficult thing to reckon with. 

“They’ve been gone almost half a day,” Anika said, checking her pocket watch. “I’m sure they’ve returned to the Slat by now. Check there before you search.”

“We will.” Nina and Inej helped Anika gather all the papers, which were returned to the satchel with the case of _fantya_ that now held one less dose. Nina linked her arm with Inej’s, and they left the safehouse together. Anika stayed behind to take stock of the remaining supplies and tidy the room. 

The warmth of the afternoon sun was a blessing after countless hours devoted to research by candlelight. Inej tilted her head up to bask in it, and Nina did the same, her eyes fluttering shut. 

They crossed over to the street, where a vendor was selling hot coffee and bread rolls. Nina bought four and placed some _kruge_ on the counter with a winning smile, which caused the owner to blush. 

Nina handed Inej two of the rolls and bit into her own with eagerness. “Mm,” she said. “The food really is the best part of Ketterdam.” 

“Not the company?” Inej asked playfully. She brushed powdered sugar from her hands. 

“That’s a close second.” 

They walked back to the Slat leisurely, both holding their food. Nina glanced at the storefronts they passed and talked about some of the products sold there. Inej listened to her without comment, preferring to enjoy the rich, excitable quality of Nina’s voice in silence.

Nina only finished talking when they reached the Slat. “Now that I’ve bored you with all that-”

“You never bore me,” Inej disagreed quickly.

“Oh, I love you- but, as I was saying, I do think we should find Jesper and Wylan. I worry for both of them.” 

“They might be here, though I also wondered if they returned to the Van Eck home.”

“Let’s find out.” Nina marched inside the Slat and cornered one of the newest, younger members, who sat by the fireplace. “Hello, child. You know Jesper Fahey? Have you seen him here today?” 

The young girl shook her head. “Thank you, then,” Nina said. She looked at Inej. “I’ll go to the Van Eck estate. They might prefer to be alone, but I just want to see how Jesper is recovering from the _fantya_.”

There was an edge to her tone that Inej pretended not to notice. She knew it was because of the hallucinogen’s nature, and the way it reminded Nina too much of _jurda parem_.

“Travel safely,” Inej said in farewell.

Nina smiled and planted a kiss on Inej’s cheek, then departed with a draft of cold air that swept through the door. 

Now alone, Inej approached the office. She would wash up and collect an extra dagger or two, if only to feel more secure. 

As she left the main room, Inej could hear voices that came from further down the hall. Kaz’s office door was left ajar, which allowed her to hear the murmured conversation between Jesper and Anika. He must have left Wylan at some point after they both fled from the safehouse.

“Don’t let Inej know about this,” Jesper said quietly as she approached. “It will do her no good.” 

Inej froze, all her muscles tensing. She didn’t dare look to see what Jesper was attempting to hide from her, for she knew it would be about Kaz.

For a moment of dizzying pain, Inej wondered if Kaz had been found dead. 

But there was no grief in Jesper’s voice, only a strained worry. And if Kaz had been killed, he would never hide that from her. For that, Inej would never forgive him.

Her curiosity bested her patience. Inej had intended to stay in the shadows, yet she pulled the door open and stepped into the office anyway. She found herself drifting forward when she saw what was in Jesper’s grasp.

A crow head cane, which had become almost as familiar to Inej as her own daggers. Kaz went everywhere with the cane. It was a part of his carefully-crafted persona, but also a part of him, both weapon and aid. She knew he loathed to leave it behind. 

And now Jesper had found it, but not Kaz. 

Anika saw her first, and jumped up. She reached for a weapon on instinct. That led Jesper to draw his own weapon; the pistol was in his hand faster than Inej could blink. He tucked it away when he saw her.

“Inej,” Jesper said, his expression both guilty and surprised. Anika winced. 

“Where did you find that?”

“Discarded in an alley by Nemstraat.” 

Inej could feel her heart pounding. Her mind raced frantically. “That’s near the location of the first set of murders.”

Anika frowned. “What? I don’t understand what you’re thinking.”

“It would make sense for the Fire Fliers to take Kaz to the heart of their territory in order to prevent his escape,” Inej explained. “And the first killer was apprehended near The Lid, which Nemstraat leads to.”

“The Lid is on the coast,” Jesper said. He seemed to follow her train of thought. “You think that’s the Fliers’ main point of operation? Saints, that must be how they import _fantya veir_. That, or they ship it by wagon from the Stronghold.”

“Sea imports would mean steeper prices,” Inej reasoned. “But it’s also faster. The Dregs would know if a new gang was receiving shipments at Fifth Harbor- the Fire Fliers must be using Sixth.” 

“You’re right, Inej,” Jesper said with a laugh. “We found them. We managed to track down the Fire Fliers. With good luck, that will lead us straight to Kaz.” 

Kaz left them a message after all. Inej had searched tirelessly, an effort that now seemed meaningless. But Jesper found the cane, which changed everything. It meant that Kaz was still alive, still scheming, and had made plans to lead them to Prenten’s gang. 

“Roeder’s strongest contact is stationed by Sweet Reef,” Inej said. “I’ll send him there.” 

Anika flung up her hands. “Slow down,” she interrupted sharply. “We have no intel to back any of that. You’re both jumping to conclusions.”

“But there’s a good chance Kaz left his cane for us to find.”

“Or it could have been lost in a struggle with the Fire Fliers.”

“They captured Kaz at the warehouse where Prenten claimed Inej was being held,” Jesper argued. “Inej is right. Wherever they transported him, the location where I found his cane must be along that route.”

“The Fire Fliers could have taken him anywhere,” Anika warned. “You’re being naive.”

“Or Kaz was smart, and left the cane there with reason,” Inej snapped. She suddenly felt defensive, even if it was irrational. “You’re being needlessly cynical.”

Anika pointed her finger at Inej accusingly. “Hold on, now. I understand that you two are more emotionally invested in Kaz’s livelihood than the rest of us-”

“That’s not…” Jesper interrupted her with a grimace. Inej shifted, uncomfortable with the scrutiny.

“Which is all the more reason for me to make both of you see logic,” Anika spoke over him. “Neither of you are clear-headed right now, which makes you dangerous to me and to Kaz. Useless, even.”

“That’s unfair,” Inej said, despite the part of her that knew Anika was right. 

“Is it? Inej, you’ve run yourself into the ground with exhaustion. And Jesper, you’re restless on a good day, but you haven’t been anywhere near focused for the past week. You drugged yourself, for Ghezen’s sake! Does that sound rational to you?”

“No,” Jesper said. It seemed to cost him something great to admit that.

“My point exactly. Kaz made me lieutenant because he accounts for everything and then lays down another failsafe plan. The Dregs are my responsibility until he returns. So, yes, it’s possible that Kaz planned this- but it’s likely he did not. I’m asking you to trust me on that, even if you don’t want to.”

Anika’s eyes were shadowed with something grim. Inej gave her a tight nod, if only because she’d earned Kaz’s trust in a way few truly could. Anika was capable and fierce, if ill-tempered at times. She deserved respect despite their disagreements.

“I do trust you,” Jesper said. “And I understand.”

“Good,” Anika said. “Jesper, give the exact address where you found the cane to Roeder. I’ll send him to follow through.” 

Jesper’s resounding sigh was heavy, but he gave his assent. He propped the crow head cane against the desk, hooking the beak over the corner. The crow’s beady eyes seemed to glower at them in disapproval.

Anika stared at the cane for a moment, then looked away. 

Jesper soon left the office. Inej crossed her arms and leaned against the wall, unwilling to break the silence between her and Anika. The fight drained out of her.

“Kaz is stronger than most,” Anika said, the words sudden and uncomfortable. One of the Stronghold journal sections was open in front of her. “And he’s resourceful. If anyone can survive capture as prolonged as this, it’s him, the clever bastard.” 

But Anika didn’t know Kaz as well as Inej did. She had faith in Kaz, of course she did, but Inej had seen him at his worst. The prison wagon and the Geldrenner, Inej remembered both nights vividly. Kaz had not been cold or composed, then. He was on the verge of falling apart. She had never seen him so afraid.

The gloves. Inej had still never asked about them directly. She feared how easy it might be for Prenten to strip Kaz of his sanity and his pride.

Inej shuddered at the thought. “I know, Anika. Thank you.” 

The boss nodded to her. Inej took the dismissal for what it was and left the office. The door clicked shut behind her, and Inej returned to the streets. She refused to be useless, as Anika had claimed. She would continue her search of Ketterdam and attempt to clear her mind.

Night had fallen by the time Inej took her first real break. She laid flat on her back against a rooftop on a residential street, the shingles digging into her spine. 

The night air was still and quiet until Inej heard conversation that echoed in a nearby alley. It could have been a group of drunks or prostitutes ending a late night out, but when Inej listened closer, it sounded like an argument.

Curious, Inej followed the sound of the voices. A hushed conversation brought her to the edge of the nearest rooftop. She peered down into the alley below to find two hooded figures standing there. One held a lantern aloft, and Inej could see a tattoo inked on the inside of a forearm riddled with scars. It was the symbol of Harley’s Pointers, an ornate compass needle.

The territory of Harley’s Pointers was far north from here. What were they doing? Inej flattened herself against the roof and strained to listen.

“Put the light away!” the figure closest to Inej hissed. “We’ll get something worse than prison if we’re seen with this shit.” 

“Shut your trap,” came the reply. “You think I don’t know how much trouble we could be in?”

A moment of quiet. “We could ditch this place and flee.”

“Boss will put our heads on sticks.”

“You and I will probably get killed here tonight, anyway.”

“I’ll take my chances.” 

A package tied with twine emerged from the first man’s coat pocket. “Shit, I won’t. Take this damn stuff if you wanna gamble your life tonight.” The bundle was passed over to the gang member’s companion- another member of Harley’s Pointers, Inej was certain.

She needed to discover the contents of that package. The second gang member disappeared into night with a cursory glance over his shoulder, hood pulled down low. The remaining companion stood alone in the alley with an air of nervousness. His gaze jumped around the brick walls as he tucked the parcel into his coat, losing all courage now that he was alone. 

Inej didn’t make a sound as she dropped down to the alley directly at his back, knife in hand.

By the time the gang member whirled around to face her, he’d taken a cut to the back of his leg from a quick slash of Inej’s dagger. Collapsing to one knee, he failed to reach for his gun, which Inej sent clattering to the cobblestones with a hit to his wrist hard enough to break bone.

“Who the hell are you?” he cried out. 

Inej discreetly slipped the package into her own coat. “No one at all,” she answered in his ear. Then she knocked him to the side, which sent the gang member sprawling with a grunt of pain. Inej stepped over him lightly, then fled the alley. 

When she was a safe block away, Inej allowed herself to stop running. She ducked behind a stack of barrels on the nearest street corner and slashed at the string which secured the parcel with one of her knives. The twine was intricately knotted to hold the brown wrap paper in place. 

Inej opened the package and was unsurprised to see a stack of twenty-odd _fantya_ vials in her lap.

_Of course_ , Inej thought bitterly. The powerful hallucinogen was likely the most productive means of business in Ketterdam. It came as no shock to her that the Fire Fliers wanted to profit from the drug that they had primary access to.

But if the Harley’s Pointers had _fantya_ , that meant the rest of the Barrel gangs could as well.

Inej huffed. If Kaz were here, he likely would have attempted to buy or steal it all, then resell the drug for a better profit immediately. But Inej was not like him, so instead she placed the package of _fantya_ in her coat and decided to return to the Slat instead of pursuing the gang members. There she would report to Anika, who could decide for herself how to deal with the other gangs.

When Inej began to stand, ready to return to the Slat, she realized that she was not alone. 

There was a man approaching from the other side of the street. He crossed quickly, a purpose to his stride. On his head was a brimmed hat, which seemed to be a deep red, matching his coat. There was a golden pin on his lapel that gleamed in the streetlights. A tree of sorts, Inej thought, squinting at it. He was still too far for her to see clearly.

Inej kept herself still. The stranger came much too close to where she was hidden in the shadows, but he passed her briskly, coming to a stop only a few paces away.

Inej held her breath and dared not to move an inch. The man’s hand jerked toward his belt for a weapon, then stilled at his side, as if he knew he were being watched. From the dull streetlights overhead Inej could see that his hands were riddled with white scar tissue that snaked up both arms and disappeared under his sleeves.

He resumed walking after a moment of further hesitation, his pace even faster than before. Inej had never seen him before, which was an odd feeling. Despite her extended periods of absence from Ketterdam, having spent so much time at sea with _The Wraith_ and her crew, Inej was still used to being well-informed about the most notable members of the city. 

This stranger, who would soon disappear around the corner at the far end of the street, exuded a strange air of calm confidence. He walked as if he owned the street beneath him and the buildings that surrounded it- an arrogance not dissimilar to Kaz’s own.

Even when the stranger was out of sight, Inej couldn’t rid herself of a sudden feeling that gripped her chest- a sense of wrongness so fierce it made her tense. Inej moved to follow the man on instinct, but when she turned the same corner in an attempt to follow him, he had disappeared entirely. 

Inej blinked hard. She almost wondered if the man was a figment of her imagination. 

She shook her head firmly to rid herself of the thought. When she returned to the Slat, Inej would ask Roeder if he’d ever crossed paths with the stranger before after following up with Anika about the Harley’s Pointers.

Inej set out for the heart of the Barrel, ready for a warm meal. The winter air was relentless; it seemed to cut the exposed skin of her face and tear through her coat.

Soon enough, the Slat was in sight, its windows filled with golden lamplight. Inej peered through the window before entering the main room. Nina perched on one of the low cushions there, her legs tucked beneath her.

Inej didn’t want to have to explain the strange man she’d seen on the street. That could wait until the morning. For now, Inej slipped through the door without a sound. 

Nina wouldn’t have noticed her at all if not for the way she was placed directly in sight of the hall that led to Kaz’s office. “Saints, Inej!” Nina exclaimed, hurrying over to stand in front of her. “You’re half-frozen. Were you out all night? This isn’t good for you.” 

“It wasn’t terribly cold,” Inej tried to argue, weak as the justification was to both of them. She couldn’t keep her shoulders from trembling, still chilled to the bone, and she was sure her nose and cheeks were flushed from the freezing air. 

Nina pulled her close with a sound of disbelief, placing her head on top of Inej’s. “There’s ice in your hair,” she murmured, stroking through the end of her braid. “Inej, my love, you can’t keep going on like this.”

“I have to find him,” Inej whispered against her shoulder. “I have to, Nina.”

“You need to not run yourself to death in the process.” 

“Kaz could be dying as we speak. I can’t live with that, Nina. If he dies, I will spend the rest of my life wondering what more I should have done.” She couldn’t afford any mistakes or missed opportunities. 

Nina sighed, then went quiet for a moment. “Just rest for now, Inej. Please? Do it for me. And for Kaz, because he would worry for you.” 

“No he wouldn’t,” Inej mumbled. It felt irrationally childish to say.

“He would, in his own grumpy way.” Nina pulled away and led her to the nearest couch. She sat down and allowed Inej to curl up next to her, resting her head on Nina’s shoulder once more. 

“Sleep,” Nina whispered. She stroked a hand through Inej’s hair, thumb brushing against her brow. 

Inej let herself rest, comforted by Nina’s touch. She would take a break just for a moment, then return to the streets and continue her search for Kaz. 

That was her last thought before she succumbed to dreams. 

In her mind she sat on that rooftop overlooking the canal, and Kaz was beside her, alive and as safe as Ketterdam would allow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jesper: drugs himself voluntarily  
> wylan: JESPER what the FU-  
> lmao- but ok that idea came to me out of nowhere? i mean jesper is the most impulsive, and arguably most loyal out of all of them. he cares deeply for the crows and i thought he would go to great self-sacrificial lengths to show that. it was interesting, idk! jesper is very noble :')) i love him  
> also- inej's reactions to kaz being gone could be considered over-dramatic. maybe so! but then i looked back in CK, and kaz does not get a POV until the chapter where they actually get inej back, which is interesting. his inner thoughts weren't revealed until then, and I've just gotta wonder what he was thinking the whole time inej was gone. idk! i have way too many thoughts about kanej and the way they worry about each other that i should definitely not pile in these end notes, which are already too long  
> next chapter should be out faster- until then!


	19. 19 ~ Jesper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesper deals with the aftermath of his run-in with _fantya veir_. He quickly approaches a breaking point amidst all the strife that has settled over Ketterdam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ONE. HUNDRED. THOUSAND. WORDS *screams* fr i almost cried when i saw the word count lmfao  
> i did my best to ramp up the dysfunctionality here. also this chapter is 35 whole pages in google docs and i do not have the energy to do full edits rn so yeah rip  
> (i've spent WAY too long writing this chapter, my brain has died at this point so it's just time to post even if it's not fully where i want it. have some angst)  
> & i have NO idea how this got to 13K words, now the new longest chapter. none at all. second time in a row that's happened what the-

Dusty sunlight filtered through the side windows of the Van Eck mansion’s front parlor.

Over the years, Jesper had come to love the house more and more. He and Wylan had moved into it soon after Wylan’s bastard of a father was arrested, and in time, they had made it their own. At first, Jesper hated nearly every room he stepped into. Wylan was always too on-edge, gaze jumping around the room as if he expected his father to manifest in a darkened corner. 

All the decor was dark and gloomy. Even the bedchambers had dark grey curtains that blocked out all the light. Jesper hated that; he’d always preferred bright colors and bold patterns. If there was anything good in Ketterdam, it was the excitement and color and chaos. In the manor, everything that could give it life was absent, leaving each room of the home barren.

So he and Wylan worked on it, slowly transforming it into their own over a steady year. They tore down wallpaper and flung open the curtains, erasing every last, bitter trace of Jan Van Eck. 

Wylan seemed to become lighter with every memory of his father that was banished.

Now, with every room Jesper entered, he was reminded of some fond moment shared between him and Wylan instead. The parlor was Jesper’s favorite because it housed the piano in the corner. Wylan preferred the flute, but the music he played at the piano was just as beautiful to Jesper, if not moreso. The instrument was a glossy mahogany that Wylan pulled deep, rich chords from. When Jesper watched him play, the sunlight framed his shoulders like an aura of gold.

It was late in the morning, and he and Wylan sat on the piano bench as they sometimes did. Wylan would play a simplified melody that Jesper tried to follow. He was always clumsy with it; Jesper had told Wylan a thousand times that his hands were better suited for firing a gun, but playing the piano was fun for both of them nonetheless.

Wylan ran through a brisk cascade of notes which followed a scale that rose then fell. Jesper tapped a stray key and winced at the discordant tone that rang out.

Wylan glanced over at his face and laughed. His own expression was mischievous, eyes light. Jesper couldn’t help himself from leaning over to press a kiss to Wylan’s cheek, just off-center from his nose. Wylan returned the kiss, square on Jesper’s lips, and smiled. “What was that for, anyway?” he asked. 

“I like hearing you play,” Jesper shrugged. “Consider it a thank you.” 

Wylan laughed again. “You interrupted me.” The complaint fell short; there was no real ire behind it.

Jesper made a sweeping gesture and bowed as best he could in the cramped space. He nearly knocked his chin against the sheet music stand. “Continue, then. Ignore me.” 

Wylan resumed the music piece, but Jesper kept his hands in his lap, deciding to simply listen. “Where did the others go?” he asked.

Wylan didn’t look up, keeping his focus on the keys. “Inej and Nina are still asleep upstairs. Kaz probably left. You know how he is.” 

Jesper did know. He and Wylan enjoyed doing this occasionally, where they invited some of the other Dregs to spend a night at the manor. Anika tended to decline, but Jesper managed to drag Kaz over more times than not, along with Inej and Nina. Jesper always lured him with the promise of good wine and the chance to escape from all of the Barrel’s chaos, if only for a night. 

The five of them had stayed up well past midnight, drinking and laughing as the hours passed by. Nina was the first to set down her drink and leave the room to sleep. Jesper suspected that she wasn’t as tired as she claimed. 

It was difficult to ignore Matthias’ absence on such nights; he could always hold his liquor better than the rest of them.

Inej had followed Nina upstairs shortly after. 

Kaz disappeared eventually as well, which left Jesper and Wylan to retire sometime around the three bell chime. And now they were here hours later, pressed together on the piano bench in the soft morning light.

Jesper felt so frighteningly happy in moments like this, so alive. Some days he barely dared to believe this was what his life had become.

A knock on the door, loud and jarring, interrupted Jesper’s thoughts.

Wylan glanced up at him sharply. “Are we expecting someone?” 

Unease shifted in Jesper’s stomach. “Not that I remember,” he replied slowly. Jesper dropped a hand to his side holster as he turned to the front door, just visible through the double archway to the parlor. “Stay here. It could simply be a vendor, or a _stadwatch_ guard at the wrong door.” 

Jesper kept his steps slow and silent as he approached the front door. Perhaps both of them were overreacting, but Jesper had learned the hard way, a thousand times over, that Ketterdam rarely brought good company to his doorstep.

A peek through the small spyhole was telling enough. Through the narrow opening Jesper could see a group of men. Four stood in the back, clothed in the uniforms of low-level _stadwatch_. But the two who stood closest to the door wore the more official uniforms of proper guards. Jesper thought he could make out the insignia of the Kerch military. 

Horror raced through him. The feeling rooted his feet to the floor.

Weeks ago, a coup against Kerch had been staged by the Ravkan government. Jesper was lost on all the politics of the situation, but he knew a network of Grisha spies throughout Ketterdam had instigated the attack. In the time since, the new Head of the Kerch Council had worked ruthlessly to apprehend every last Grisha who was involved. Some of the more powerful wielders began organizing the other Grisha; some even stockpiled weapons, which would inevitably escalate the tension. 

The Ravkan Embassy had been destroyed mere days ago. Jesper had never gotten involved, and neither had Nina. Many of the other neutral Grisha chose to flee from the continent altogether, but the two of them refused to run. 

With the number of Grisha spies that had already been caught, Nina and Jesper faded to the background of the city’s turmoil in order to go unnoticed. 

If caught, the lucky ones were killed.

Now, every means of escape from Ketterdam was aggressively monitored. Even Kaz had deemed it too dangerous to attempt to flee. So Jesper and Nina laid low, trying to live their lives with as much normalcy as possible, even as the threat of being discovered loomed over their heads.

But this shouldn’t be possible for him. So few knew of Jesper’s Grisha heritage. He’d assumed he would never be found. 

Jesper looked back to Wylan. Something in his face must have shown, because Wylan stood instantly. He reached for the drawer of a side table, which held one of the many weapons hidden around their home. “Let’s go,” Wylan whispered. “Quickly.” 

Jesper followed him up the stairs as another knock sounded on the door, heavy against the wood. It was a sound that promised violence, so Jesper ran faster. 

They’d planned for this. In the main office, a panel on the side wall led to a hidden door. It would allow them to escape outside in the back of the house undiscovered. 

Wylan ran down the hall and flung the office door open, then stumbled to a halt. Jesper was about to ask what was wrong, but then he saw what had captured Wylan’s attention.

Kaz stood there, leaning casually against the desk in the center of the room. He was composed as always, clad in funeral black, all hard tailored edges. There was a strange expression on his face. Kaz’s cold eyes had gone colder; they burned with a fire hotter than blue flame, something both bitter and angry. 

“The _stadwatch_ are coming,” Jesper told him urgently. “Why are you still here? They know about me- I don’t know how I was found out, or what they believe my involvement to be.”

For a moment, Kaz merely stared at him. There was no time for this. Jesper shoved past, but Kaz halted him with a heavy hand on his shoulder. “I know. I was the one who notified the _stadwatch_.”

Jesper froze. “What?” Wylan whispered from behind him. 

Kaz sneered. “I never forgot what you did, Jesper. Did you truly think I would ever move on from your mistakes? You were a fool, running your mouth to the enemy. Inej almost died. I would have killed you for that.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that was a mistake?” Jesper shouted, full of exasperation and shock and something that felt like grief. He’d told the wrong people about his good fortunes before their departure to the Ice Court, and the assault at the docks almost allowed the Dime Lions to best them. 

Jesper would never forget that. Neither would Kaz, he knew, but this too harsh a punishment for even Kaz to bestow. Of everything in the world, Jesper had never expected a betrayal like this, even if he’d fixated on the fear of it too often.

“I don’t give a damn about your mistakes or your repentance, Jesper. It never should have happened at all. Tipping off the guards was an easy choice, a good deal. You cross me, you pay for it. Consider this my revenge.”

Jesper felt sick. They were going to kill him, or experiment with his abilities, or worse. Did he deserve that in Kaz’s eyes? It was a devastating realization, more painful than anything Jesper had ever known. “I trusted you,” Jesper croaked. “I always have.” The words were jagged and they cut at his throat.

Kaz’s laugh was full of scorn. “Then I underestimated just how much of a fool you are.” With that he shoved past Jesper and Wylan. The door slammed behind him with a heavy finality. Wylan looked at Jesper in horror as Kaz’s grating voice sounded from the hall. “They’re in the office. Jesper Fahey campaigned for the uprising in support of the Ravkan Army. Get rid of him.” 

The office door slammed open. “I didn’t!” Jesper tried to shout in protest. “He’s lying. I’ve never been involved. I’m not even Grisha.” He’d always wished for that to be true, and never more than he did right now.

Three _stadwatch_ guards had their guns trained on him. Jesper put his hands up in placation. “Listen to me! You can search the entire house, all my documents- anything at all. I know nothing of the Grisha spies.” 

The guards glanced at their leader. The man’s expression hardened, and he shook his head, unwilling to believe it. 

Before Jesper could draw his own weapon, Wylan stepped in front of him. Jesper’s eyes widened when he saw the gun in Wylan’s hand, ready to fire. “You won’t take him,” Wylan said, voice steely with calm. There was a quiet rage there that Jesper had witnessed before, but he had never seen Wylan act on it, not like this. 

Jesper reached for his own pistol as Wylan raised the gun and fired. 

At the same time, Jesper set off a shot of his own, stepping to the side to aim. He sensed the metal of the third guard’s weapon and used his power to deflect the bullet, which sent it ricocheting through the window. Glass shattered, and cold air swept into the room.

Jesper almost would have enjoyed the victory, inexperienced as he was with using his abilities, until a second shot went off.

Jesper whipped his head to the side. There was too little time for him to deflect this bullet, and his failure had a single, catastrophic consequence.

He watched as the head _stadwatch_ official sent a bullet straight through Wylan’s skull.

Blood splattered as Wylan fell, crimson against his red curls, skin paler than before against unseeing eyes. Jesper nearly dropped his weapon, mouth open. He stared, and stared, unable to comprehend the sight before him. His vision blurred, and none of this felt real, it couldn’t be but it _was_. The sight of Wylan dead on the floor…

Something in Jesper snapped. 

He fired shot after shot, determined to kill the guards for what they did. He would break every bone, drain them of blood and life. Dead, Wylan was _dead_ , and there were hands holding him down but Jesper still fought with no relent, because they had _killed Wylan_ and Jesper would destroy them for it.

A blow knocked him backwards, straight down on his forehead. Jesper’s vision darkened from the hit as he sprawled on the ground next to Wylan, chest heaving, stunned and numb. 

The last thing he felt before the world faded to blackness was that Wylan’s skin had gone so unnaturally cold with death. 

~--~

Jesper opened his eyes slowly, pulled seemingly from a dream, in a whirlwind of delirium and fear that thundered through his mind and caused his heart to race. 

It took him a moment to understand where he was. The room was half-lit by candles that cast flickering shadows along the walls. Jesper realized anxiously that this was a Dregs safehouse, far across the city from the Van Eck mansion. Where was Wylan, his body, and the guards that had killed him? How had he gotten here?

“What happened?” Jesper dared to ask. He didn’t know where he was or who was with him.

He barely breathed until he saw Wylan, who was before him faster than Jesper could think. His head felt muddled. He wasn’t hallucinating, except he had to be, for Wylan stared at him with worry in his eyes. There was no blood, no death here.

If Wylan was alive, his death couldn’t have been real. But if Wylan was here, Jesper was afraid to wonder why he’d seen what he did at the mansion. 

“You don’t remember?” came the question. It was Nina who said it. Her eyes were big and concerned as she stared at Jesper. 

He responded to her without even processing the words that came out of his mouth. _Fantya veir_ , came the explanation, floating through all the chaos that swept up Jesper’s mind. How had he forgotten that? Jesper remembered the desire to take the drug, borne from his bitter helplessness about everything that happened, everything he couldn’t control. But the memory of actually taking _fantya_ was lost to him.

Ten days, now, since Kaz had been taken. He remembered now. Perhaps it was more than that, depending on how long Jesper had been out. They were all doing their best, but it wasn’t enough to save Kaz, not without a proper plan. The frustration of it ate away at Jesper. 

But all that mattered right now was Wylan’s presence. Jesper couldn’t bear to recall what Kaz had done in his dream. The feeling of Wylan’s forehead pressed against his calmed the jittery feeling in Jesper’s bones. He had watched Wylan die, and he couldn’t erase the brutal vision no matter how hard he tried to. Wylan was murmuring soft platitudes, and that helped, though barely. 

“I don’t regret it,” Jesper said without thinking. It was the truth, one he felt stronger saying. Jesper didn’t know what any of the others might see upon taking the _fantya_ , but if it was even half as terrible as what he witnessed, Jesper would never wish that pain on anyone. 

When he spoke the thought, Wylan pulled away from him harshly and stormed from the room. It left Jesper reeling; his mind still felt trapped in the hallucinations, and the loss of contact he’d relied on left him disoriented. 

Jesper stared at the door for a moment, then tried to stand. His legs felt weak, but he followed Wylan anyway. The outside air was bitterly cold, but Jesper ignored the feeling. He chased Wylan, who disappeared into a side alley.

“Wylan, wait!” Jesper called. He nearly stumbled once he reached the street, unbalanced by the pitted cobblestones. His legs still felt frail and his shoulders shook. 

Wylan turned at the sound of his voice. He reached for Jesper then jerked his hand back, expression equal parts regretful and frustrated. “I didn’t want you to follow me. You need to rest after all that, and I need to be alone. It’s dangerous for you to walk around so soon. Please, Jesper. Go back inside.”

Jesper crossed his arms stubbornly. “No, I won’t leave until you say what’s wrong. I’m fine, anyway.” 

“That’s just it, though,” Wylan said. Exhaustion seemed to cling to him, and there was a nastiness to his tone that Jesper had never heard. “You can’t just brush off what you did and expect us all to be fine with it.” 

Jesper spread his arms. “Look at me! I’m not dead, I’m able to walk, my mind wasn’t shattered forever from the _fantya_. No harm was done to any of us.”

“You can’t know that! It’s a drug, Jesper. We saw firsthand, too many times, what _jurda parem_ can do. Who’s to say this drug isn’t the same? And besides, you almost drew your gun on us. Jesper, you were out of your mind.”

“That’s not true,” Jesper said after a pause. His mind raced. He would know if he had done something like that. “You- you’re lying to force me to see the danger of it all.” 

Wylan’s mouth dropped open. “You can’t possibly believe that,” he said in shock. “Anika forced the gun out of your hand and confiscated the rest. And Inej had to wrench the weapon from you to shoot at the ceiling instead of one of us. No harm, you say?” His resounding laugh was bitter. Jesper almost thought he sounded afraid. “You don’t know half of it.”

“You’re lying,” Jesper repeated. It was all he could think to say.

“Go ahead, then! Look back in the safehouse and tell me there isn’t a bullet hole in the roof.” 

Jesper glared at him and refused to move. “Go on,” Wylan said again. “Tell me I was imagining it. Keep acting like I was the one drugged out of my mind. I don’t know what the hell you were seeing, but I know exactly what I saw.” 

“You haven’t even asked,” Jesper said. He tapped his foot anxiously against the ground at the mere thought of the hallucinations. “You don’t know what I saw in that dream, Wylan.” 

“I don’t want to! I’m so angry with you it makes me want to scream. Right now, I never want to hear about that drug and all your damn _stupid_ decisions ever again.”

Rage plowed through Jesper. He noted offhandedly that his hands were trembling, and he shoved them in his pockets. For the first time he noticed the absence of his guns in their holsters. The lack of comforting weight put him further on edge. “You think it was stupid?” he yelled. “I did what I had to. Life isn’t easy in the Dregs, Wylan, you know that. Nothing is safe, nothing is easy. We have to fight and burn and bleed to keep our lives.” 

Wylan shook his head. “Ketterdam is dangerous, yes, but what you did was reckless for no good reason at all. You could have died from the _fantya_ , Jesper! I held you while your heart almost stopped. Seeing you out of your mind… it was terrifying.”

“It’s not my fault I’m more willing to take risks than you.” 

“You think I’m jealous of your astounding ability to seek out danger?” Wylan seethed. His face had gone red. “Grow up, Jesper. One of these days you’re going to get yourself killed. What for? First, you accepted the mission at the Stronghold with every single odd stacked against you. Now this, drugging yourself by choice.”

“Inej and I were best equipped for that journey,” Jesper argued. It was a weak defense against Wylan’s anger; that was obvious to both of them.

“Neither of you should have gone at all,” Wylan said. “You almost bled out in the coach- yes, Keeg told me about that. I’m sick of all this, Jesper. How many times will you throw yourself headfirst into danger before it’s the last? It’s like you’ve never even thought of everything you’ll leave behind if you die.” 

Wylan swallowed hard before continuing. “I hate the way it seems like I care about you so much more than you care about me.”

Jesper’s mind went blank. He stilled completely. “That’s not true, Wylan. That’s not true at all. None of this is about you, anyway.”

“Of course it’s not.” Back to bitterness, after Wylan seemed to have become more sorrowful. His eyes were hard. “It’s about Kaz.” 

“No,” Jesper immediately. He refused to examine the thought; he was afraid to find that Wylan might be right.

“It is, though. Kaz handed you a death mission, and you accepted it without a single question or worry. You stole from a secret keep packed with prisoners and drugs on his orders. And now you’ve drugged yourself to understand the Fire Fliers’ weapon of choice, which they’re more than likely using on Kaz.”

“I’m part of the Dregs- lieutenant, now- and Kaz is the boss. I follow his orders because I serve everyone else in the gang. We all look out for each other. You’re a part of that too, so you should understand.”

“I understand it, but I would never go to such great lengths for a man like Kaz. You can tell yourself everything you’ve done is on all the Dregs’ behalf, but I have a hard time believing it.”

“That’s what we do, Wylan! We take risks to benefit something greater than ourselves. If you can’t understand that, maybe you don’t belong in Ketterdam at all- maybe you never have.” 

Wylan flinched at that. His expression revealed hurt, and in the past Jesper might have backtracked instantly, but now he refused to. “You can’t say that,” Wylan snapped. “I’ve lived here for years now. Maybe I was a weakling, a pathetic mercher’s son, when I first came to the city. But that hasn’t been true for a long time, and you know it.” 

“I thought I knew. But this entire useless argument you’ve pushed for has me assuming otherwise. Say what you really want to say, Wylan. Prove that you’re not the spineless coward I see right now.” 

Wylan stepped forward, nearly pushing Jesper against the wall, until their faces were mere inches away. “I think you’re pathetic,” he hissed. “I think you’ve spent years chasing Kaz’s approval, his praise, even though you will never receive either. In part because Kaz would never show that support, but mainly because you’re not deserving of it.” 

Jesper’s heart clenched and his breath caught unbidden. He’d thought the very same a thousand times, but a part of him always believed it irrational, spurred by his own self-doubts. And Wylan had always had nothing but steady confidence in Jesper, though it must have been a ruse if he believed the same devastating truth: Kaz would never trust Jesper genuinely, never enjoy his company or consider him something even close to a friend. 

Jesper shouldn’t have cared about that at all. But he did, dammit, and it hurt so much more than he wanted to admit that Wylan agreed with the sentiment. 

He almost shoved Wylan back, but refrained from doing so, just barely. Jesper was far past willingness to apologize, so he kept his mouth clamped shut, willing to go no further. 

Jesper knew he should say something, but the right words wouldn’t come. “Stay away from me,” he snapped. It felt like a defeat. “I don’t want to see you.” 

Wylan muttered some scathing response that Jesper didn’t hear; he’d already stormed away, leaving Wylan alone in the alley. Anger ignited him. It made Jesper’s head spin, and he walked without purpose until the feeling abated.

Jesper kept his head down, paying no attention to where he walked. He missed his revolvers greatly. Walking the streets would have felt much safer with the trustworthy guns at his side. 

Jesper continued his aimless journey through the Barrel until he realized how far he’d gone. Surely he was in the heart of enemy territory now. He didn’t know exactly where he was, and Jesper wasn’t looking for trouble. Not now, at least, especially not with the Fire Fliers spread across the city.

If they are able to apprehend Kaz, Jesper had to wonder if anyone was truly safe. 

He could see the harbor in the distance, meaning he had walked to the Lid without noticing it. Jesper was now on the edge of the Liddies’ territory, which skirted the harbor docks.

Jesper remembered that, several weeks previously, Kaz had staged the burning and pillaging of the Liddies’ best ship. The gang still harbored resentment over the incident, and their relationship with the Dregs had grown even more strained in the time since.

If he was caught up here by thugs, Jesper knew it wouldn’t end well for him. He turned in the other direction, back now facing the harbor waters, and set out for the southern part of the Barrel.

His feet carried him back in the direction of the Slat. Jesper quickly turned a corner, crossing through a sidestreet that would take him to Dregs territory more quickly. There were faces in the crowd from rival gangs that Jesper vaguely recognized. Some looked more angry than others. Jesper ducked his head down and kept walking.

Something buried in debris against the wall in the alley caught his eye. Jesper slowed to a stop and bent closer. It took him a moment to understand what he was looking at; then the realization crept in on the tailend of horror. 

Kaz’s cane had been discarded on the ground. The iron crow head was covered in grime, and the tip that Kaz used as a weapon was stained with blood. 

Jesper swore and picked up the cane, doing his best to dust it off, but the blood stains remained. He knew that the Fire Fliers had transported Kaz from the warehouse. If they’d crossed through the Lid, that gave Inej and Roeder a new area to search for any clues or eyewitnesses. 

The cane provided physical evidence of the Fire Fliers’ brutality. Jesper had already known that Kaz would not survive the Fliers unscathed, and this proof that Kaz was fighting them gave Jesper hope but also fear. Kaz was protective over his cane, preferring the weapon above all else. Wherever he’d been taken, there was no longer a use for it. Jesper knew Kaz was capable, but still he worried.

With the crow’s head cane in hand, Jesper continued on his way to the Slat. He walked more quickly now, and only breathed more easily when the Slat was in sight. Jesper went directly to the office in the back hall, irnoging everyone he passed. Jesper hoped Anika would be there. It was crucial that she knew of what he found. 

Jesper pushed the door open too quickly. The wood slammed against the wall, and Anika jumped up from her seat at the desk. “What the hell, Jesper,” she grumbled. “You left the safehouse too damn quick. Where’d Wylan go?”

“I don’t care,” Jesper answered sharply. Surprise flitted across her face. “I found this in the alley.” He held out the cane, which had been held unnoticed at his side. Now he cradled it between his upturned palms for Anika to see.

Her expression clouded. “I don’t suppose you were able to see Kaz wherever you found that,” Anika murmured. 

“No sign of him,” confirmed Jesper. “I didn’t even think to search while I was there, in the Lid, but we both know that Kaz wouldn’t have intended to leave the cane behind.” 

“I know. This isn’t good, Jesper. I was thinking about it, and for all we know, the Fire Fliers could have taken him across the continent or the sea by now. If there was a struggle, the trail ends here. I don’t know how to find Kaz.” 

“Neither do I,” Jesper said regretfully. “We need a plan, a proper one. In the meantime, don’t let Inej know about this. It will do her no good.” 

And because Inej was the Wraith, she manifested mere moments after the words left Jesper’s mouth. He didn’t know how long she’d been listening. Anika saw her first, and reached for her weapon. Jesper did the same; his pearl revolvers were still missing, but he had a smaller gun in his coat pocket, which he drew. 

“Inej,” he greeted, tucking the weapon away when he realized she was no threat. 

Inej soon launched into an explanation about the location of the discarded cane, and how that related to the murder scenes. Jesper was drawn into her justifications, her own hope spurring his. Jesper hadn’t even considered that Kaz might have left the cane behind intentionally. 

Then Anika brought them back to reality with brutal efficiency, dismantling every hope Inej had laid forth. “I’m asking you to trust me on that, even if you don’t want to,” she told them.

Jesper didn’t want to agree with her; he longed to hold onto the hope that Kaz was a step ahead of them and the Fire Fliers alike, but Anika was the boss now, and Jesper would follow her despite any reservations. “I do trust you,” he conceded. “And I understand.”

He leaned the cane against the desk with a heavy sigh and a final promise to Anika. Then Jesper left the office, leaving her and Inej alone. There was a restless feeling under his skin that made him itch. The walls seemed to close in on him, so Jesper burst through the front door of the Slat and didn’t stop to think until he was safely outside. 

The night air was cold and freeing. Stars shone overhead, and the sight made Jesper feel less impossibly small, but he needed something more. 

Jesper knew what he should do. It was reckless and likely foolish, but at this late hour, there would be several drunks leaving Ketterdam’s taverns and gambling parlors. They would sleep off the liquor for a few hours, then return to start the day over again. There was no man more willing to brawl than a drunk one. 

Jesper sought out the nearest bar and sidled through the door. The bartender glanced up at him with a scowl. “It’s just about closing,” she snapped.

“I won’t be long,” he told her. 

She continued to glare at him as Jesper sat down at the bar next to a man that would certainly tower over Jesper if they were both standing. The man’s shoulders were twice as broad and his thick, scowling face was covered in red scratches and old scars.

Jesper wasn’t properly armed. He still had the small gun and a flimsy knife- only someone new to the Barrel would go without one- but he preferred a gunfight with his prized pistols. 

Though he had no intention of resorting to use of weapons; for tonight, his fists would do.

Jesper flashed the thug a bright smile. “It’s a pleasure. Quite a nice night, no?”

The man eyed him suspiciously. “Yer one of the Dregs,” he replied. The thug flexed his fingers. On his right forearm was a Liddies tattoo stamped with black ink.

This was what Jesper had hoped for. 

“That I am.” Jesper’s smile sharpened, and he was sure the look had become crazed. Adrenaline coursed through him at the promise of a good fight. “You want to do something about it?”

The gang member snarled at him and lunged forward, uprighting both their chairs. Getting him to take the bait was easy. Jesper ducked to the side and dodged the blow with ease. Liquor sharpened the thug’s breath, and he was much too drunk to win in a brawl like this.

Jesper’s heart pounded with exhilaration. This was what he was good for, if nothing else.

The barkeep smacked her towel against the counter. “Take it outside,” she snapped. “No fighting in here, I mean it.”

Jesper ignored her. “You’re too slow,” he taunted the man before him. “That the best you can do? Ghezen, it’s no wonder your boss hates his own gang.” The head of the Liddies was an old man known to kill off his new recruits for fun when they displeased him. 

His opponent loosed another growl and jerked forward. Jesper wasn’t quick enough this time, and a fist crunched against his nose. Blood poured forth as Jesper stumbled back. He returned the blow with a sharp hit to the chin, unable to knock the thug over.

They exchanged several more blows, upturning chairs and a few tables. The barkeep shouted something about getting her gun. Jesper didn’t stop; he couldn’t. His knuckles stung with bruising and his broken nose throbbed in time with the new scrape on his jaw. It still wasn’t enough. Jesper needed violence to match the storm within him and drown out all thoughts of Kaz and Wylan. He needed something he could control and destroy.

With a sharp cry, Jesper slammed his chest against the thug’s putting all his weight behind it. They both fell to the ground. Jesper landed another hit that was quickly returned.

Suddenly the scuffle felt wrong. The fight drained out of Jesper at an alarming rate. The thrill wasn’t enough. He rolled away from the gang member and clambered onto his knees. The barkeep now had a shotgun in hand, and when Jesper was standing properly he landed a kick on the man’s ribs that kept him down. 

Jesper muttered a quick curse in the gang member’s direction and waved at the barkeep. He turned on his heel, then ran. It would do no good to stay behind and wait for another fight to begin, or for more Liddies to find him. If he was lucky, the thug would keep his mouth shut about who bested him. If not, Jesper didn’t care, because Anika would raise hell on him for starting a brawl so close to the Crow Club anyway. 

Jesper swiped his sleeve across his nose gingerly. It did little to stop the flow of blood. He would set the bone eventually, but he was unwilling to return to the Slat just yet. He wanted to avoid Wylan, who would likely be there.

Jesper headed to the Crow Club instead. If nothing else, he could gamble his way through the stack of _kruge_ in his pocket. That would satisfy him in a way no brawl could, and help him avoid his thoughts.

 _Wylan_. Now that Jesper had the chance to think on it properly, he regretted what he said. But until Wylan was willing to offer the same apology, if he ever did, Jesper would do nothing.

He hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

Jesper shook his head in a pitiful attempt to clear it. The feeling of Wylan’s absence was a strange, painful one. They had been near-inseparable for years, and they had fought before, but never like this.

The Crow Club was up ahead, its front door propped open despite the winter chill. At such a late hour, few would care about the cold drafts that blew in, focusing instead on the last winning scraps and leftover beer. 

Nina stood outside the club when Jesper approached. She was engaged in a quick conversation with some passerby. They spoke in what sounded like Ravkan, so Jesper paid no attention to the words as he hurried past. 

Nina saw him anyway. Her eyes widened at the sight of him; all the blood must be painfully visible in the light from inside. “Jesper!” she cried out, waving away the woman she’d spoken to. “What happened to your face?”

“I got into a fight,” Jesper replied merrily. The words fell flat, less jovial than he intended. 

Nina tapped his nose carefully. He hissed at the contact. “It looks broken,” she frowned. “Who started the fight?”

“The other guy.” Jesper’s opponent had thrown the first punch, after all, even if he’d been goaded to do so.

Nina nodded, but didn’t quite seem to believe him. “Alright. You should clean up in the back. It’s good that you’re here- Inej was about to look for you. We’ve gathered in one of the private game rooms.”

Jesper nodded at that. Nina followed him inside, both of them ignoring all the stares Jesper’s face got. At the end of the back hall, there was a basin with a mirror. Jesper stood before it and inspected his nose in the dirty glass.

“I can set it for you,” Nina offered.

“No need,” said Jesper. He quickly snapped the bone back into place, clamping his jaw shut tight at the pain. If he winced, that would only aggravate the wound more.

Nina wordlessly passed him a cloth to wipe off the blood. Jesper grinned at her in the mirror and dampened the fabric, carefully scrubbing away the blood that had dried on his face. Red-purple bruising appeared on his skin, but now it was slightly less obvious that he’d fought.

“Everyone is in here.” Nina gestured to the nearest door. “You’re good?” 

“Never better,” Jesper replied. Nina scoffed at that. 

Inside the private room, Anika and Inej were seated at the game table, though all the cards and gambling chips had been put away. Inej’s hair was untidy, half of it up and the rest hanging in soft waves, different from her usual plait. It seemed that she had just awoken from sleep. Nina dropped into the chair next to Inej. 

Wylan sat in a chair against the far wall. He glanced up sharply when he caught sight of Jesper’s face, but made no move to stand. There was an open seat next to Wylan, and in the past Jesper would have taken it in an instant, but now he pulled another chair up to the table and perched on it backwards. 

Inej’s eyes flickered between him and Wylan. Anika raised a brow. Nina opened her mouth to ask something, but Inej spoke first. “What happened?” Her gaze was fixed on his face.

Jesper did his best to wave her off. “Bar fight. There’s nothing to worry about. What business?”

Anika placed a leather-bound folder on the table. “Now isn’t the time for brawls, Jesper. I decrypted more of the files from the Stronghold. And, if you’re able to, I thought I’d ask what you saw after taking _fantya_.” 

The thought filled Jesper with dread. “Of course,” he agreed anyway. 

“The rest of you can read through the files later. Go ahead, Jesper,” Anika said.

Jesper fully intended to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. He didn’t know where he should even start. It felt unbearable to describe the hallucinations aloud; living them once was enough. 

“What did you see?” Inej prompted, her voice gentle. Wylan’s gaze was averted when Jesper glanced at him; He stared at the far wall instead, and he had gone too still. It reminded Jesper of the destruction he’d witnessed. 

Jesper steeled himself. “I was at home, and there was a knock at the door. I brought my gun to answer it, and a group of men stood there. All of them were _stadwatch_ guards that came to search the house.

“They… discovered my abilities.” Jesper refused to mention Kaz’s betrayal, because he knew it wasn’t real, but the thought still stung. “I’m not sure how. The Kerch government wanted to round up Grisha spies after an attack from Ravka.” 

A look of discomfort settled over Nina’s face. “Saints, that’s frightening. You drew your pistols, almost fired them. I suppose you were trying to fight your way out?”

It took Jesper great effort not to glance over at Wylan again. He couldn’t rid himself of the sight of all that blood in the hallucination. Wylan had gone so deathly pale against all the crimson blood splatters. “Yes,” he answered, a near-truth. “I ran at first, but they caught up to me. I knew that death was my only option.” 

Whether Jesper had been planning for the death of his assailants or his own, he didn’t know. After Wylan was killed, little else had mattered to him.

“I dreamed of something I fear most,” Jesper continued. He went straight to the point, hesitant to disclose any more details. “I hide what I can do, always, because my fear of being discovered is so strong.” If that became a reality, being hunted for his Grisha heritage, Jesper didn’t quite know what he would do.

Nina shuddered. “And you never realized it was a dream?” Anika pressed.

Jesper shook his head. “All of it felt real. My mind was clear-” until Wylan had been shot, at least- “and I thought nothing of _fantya veir_.” 

Nina tapped Anika’s folder. “Does that fit with the observations in the files you decrypted?” 

“It does,” said Anika. “And it makes sense. The other victims of the drug became so violent they were driven to murder. Fear is destructive alone, but it creates devastating consequences when amplified by the visions from the drug.”

“I’m sorry for almost shooting you all,” Jesper blurted out. He suddenly felt bashful. “I didn’t know I lost control.” That was the worst part of it, Jesper thought. He could have killed someone without knowing or intending to.

“Don’t apologize,” Nina dismissed immediately. Inej said the same. “It wasn’t your fault.” 

Wylan remained silent, which earned him another confused glance from Nina. Jesper could almost hear the response Wylan wanted to give. _Yes, it was your fault._

Jesper stood and kicked his chair back. “Anika, give me the files later. I’ll look over them tomorrow and answer any more of your questions.”

“You have somewhere to be?” Anika asked. She gave him a judgemental look.

“No,” Jesper told her. He couldn’t be bothered to come up with a decent lie. “I just truly do not want to discuss this further. Not right now. And I know some people don’t want to hear it.” 

Jesper faced Wylan directly. He remained silent, continuing to stare at the wall over Jesper’s shoulder. Wylan took no notice of the snide comment, but the others did. Inej had gone tense, Nina seemed confused, and Anika shook her head at both of them. “Exactly like children,” she scoffed quietly. 

Wylan gave her a look, still refusing to speak. Jesper laughed bitterly and left. The sight of Wylan alone made him furious. As the door swung shut behind him, he could hear that Nina had begun to question Wylan. 

Jesper didn’t care at all. Wylan could tell the others whatever he wanted. For now, Jesper wanted to gamble his mind away on the Crow Club floor and put all his misery, every fear, out of his mind. 

Tonight, Jesper didn’t even care if he won or lost.

~--~

The next five days passed much the same. 

Jesper continued to ignore Wylan and received the same treatment in return. He refused to discuss the argument with anyone. Inej attempted to corner him only once. 

“Wylan told us that you fought,” Inej said quietly. They stood in the cramped kitchen at the Slat. The bright light overhead caught her dark hair as Jesper glared down at her. 

“Then I don’t know what else you want to hear,” he snapped, angry even if it wasn’t fair to her.

Inej blinked. “I simply wanted to hear your thoughts.”

“I think Wylan is selfish and spineless, and it’s taken me this long to realize it.” 

“However angry you are, I know you don’t believe that, Jesper.” 

“Maybe I do,” he muttered.

Inej shook her head. “It’s your choice. But if this were me and Kaz, I know I would have tracked him down days ago to clear the air.” 

“You’re more forgiving than me, I suppose.” 

Inej laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. He had to fight the urge to brush it away. “Forgiveness is easy once you seek it,” she said. “You and Wylan are never apart like this. Come back to each other, Jesper. There’s no sense in any of us being divided.” Inej looked down and removed her hand from his arm. “Especially not now.” 

She slipped away before Jesper had the chance to find a response to that.

He laughed to himself. Of course it was Inej, with her Suli wisdom and her steady mind, to see sense in all of this. Even if she was still unbalanced from Kaz’s capture, she had said exactly what Jesper needed to hear.

Yet he still didn’t want to apologize. Not after what Wylan said to him about Kaz. It was a wound torn open time and time again with every moment Jesper spent thinking about the hallucinations. 

Over the past week, Jesper drank far more than he usually did. Downing liquor was a far easier choice than confronting everything he needed to face. He passed the time with other Dregs and searched the city for insight about Kaz as much as he could.

Despite himself, Jesper hoped Wylan was faring better than him. 

Inej was even more aggressive in her searches, scouring various districts with the discreet help of Roeder. Nina spoke with her own contacts to learn of the Fire Fliers and their whereabouts. Anika maintained order and worked fervently to maintain the ruse that Kaz was alive and well, simply absent for the time being. 

Her careful facade inevitably fell apart. 

A brawl between two members of the Dregs escalated one morning at the Crow Club into a full-fledged fight. Anika attempted to subdue the masses, but they were riled from the murders and the presence of the Fire Fliers, who kept to the shadows. The lack of confrontation set everyone on edge.

No more murder sprees had been reported, and none of them understood why.

Jesper watched the chaos on the Crow Club floor unfold without intervening. He leaned against the side wall with his arms crossed. His prized revolvers were returned to his side holster; Anika had returned them when she passed over the Stronghold files.

“You and Wylan both look terrible,” she’d said to him while passing over the guns.

Jesper had scowled at that. “Focus on the work,” he said. “I’m not discussing that with you.” 

Now, Anika shouted over the Dregs surrounding her. Somehow she had broken up the fight, one of the gang members still thrashing in Pim’s grip. Many of the other patrons had been cleared from the floor, which promised a poor day of earnings. 

“Stop!” Anika yelled. Her face was red with frustration. “Walk it off. I don’t have time for all this bullshit.”

“Let the men fight!” someone spat at her. “Stay out of it.” 

Anika stilled at that. She laughed around a snarl and decked the offender right in the jaw. Jesper noticed, offhandedly, that she’d slipped on her brass knuckles before placing the hit. Good.

If everyone else had known Anika was their leader now, the young man wouldn’t have dared to say a word or even think it at all. But Anika still had to fight to prove herself at times, which annoyed Jesper to no end. Kaz had chosen her above all else to be lieutenant, and now that she had secretly risen to become the boss, her authority was still questioned. 

“Where’s Brekker, anyway?” another asked. “He too lazy to deal with us anymore or what?”

“Kaz is away on business,” Anika retorted. “I suggest you ask him that yourself when he returns and see how many limbs you walk away with.” 

Those closest to her blanched at the threat. It broke the tension, finally, and the Dregs began to disperse.

Jesper approached when the brawlers had been hauled away. He picked up a stray chair that had been overturned. “You handled that well,” he said in approval.

“Of course I did.” Anika reached over the bar and gripped a liquor bottle. “But morale is too low. They need to see the boss, but we know that’s not happening.” She shook her head. “Ghezen, I need a drink. I wish they would listen to me, easy and done, like they do with Kaz.” 

“Kaz will return soon,” was all Jesper said. _I hope_. “If you’re lucky, he might thank you for handling everything in his absence.”

“Right,” Anika snorted. “That just comes with the job. Kaz has even less manners than me, anyway. I’ll die before I hear him speak a single word of gratitude.”

“That’s fair,” Jesper chuckled. Nothing was complicated with Anika, which he appreciated. She loved the Dregs and cared little for gossip; her head was always on straight, which couldn’t be said for many others. 

Anika set a heavy glass on the counter. “Want any?” she asked, pouring some of the amber liquor.

“I think I’ll take a walk instead,” Jesper told her. “I’ve had too much already.” 

Anika nodded and downed half her glass. She winced at the taste and waved goodbye to Jesper as he walked outside. 

Jesper strolled through the streets aimlessly, ignoring those around him. He wandered toward the Warehouse District, where thick smog smothered the sky overhead. Everything was a bit dirtier here, clothes stained with oil and shop windows greasy or covered in dust. Jesper passed a group of women smoking behind a factory when he heard a strange sound. 

He thought he could hear a child crying. 

Jesper frowned and listened closer. The sound seemed to come from inside an abandoned factory. The closest entrance was barred with wood planks, each nailed into place. Jesper managed to pry them away. He used his powers to twist the rusty metal after a quick glance over his shoulder. 

The sound of pained cries grew louder once Jesper was inside. He squinted in the half-darkness. Most of the windows were obstructed with heavy sheets. In the low light Jesper was barely able to see blood stains on the ground that disappeared past a large piece of machinery. 

He approached it swiftly, a hand at his belt, ready for whatever threat he might find. The crying had grown even louder and more shrill. 

The sight before him was unexpected. It caught Jesper off guard. 

A young girl no older than ten crouched against the machine. The sheet covering it stained the fabric of her nightgown with grease, adding to the blood stains already on the blue fabric. 

Jesper dropped to his knees before her. “Are you hurt?” he asked immediately.

The girl flinched back from him, so Jesper scooted in the opposite direction to give her more space. “It’s alright,” he soothed. “I won’t hurt you. Are you injured?” 

She shivered and wiped at her nose. Tears shone bright on pale cheeks framed by white-gold hair. When Jesper saw the bright blue of her eyes, he knew she must be Fjerdan. “N-No,” she whispered. “But… but I-” she began to cry again. 

Jesper kept his hands splayed in front of him as he inched closer. He wasn’t sure where all the blood had come from. “Why don’t you tell me your name first,” he said, keeping his voice low. “I’m Jesper. It’s nice to meet you.” 

“I’m K-Kelvi,” she whispered back. 

“That’s a nice name, Kelvi. Do you want to tell me what happened?” 

Her lip quivered. I don’t know where I a-am. I woke up and I was holding this.” Her Kerch was broken, but she spoke the language well enough for Jesper to understand.

Kelvi extended her arm and unfolded her hand. Jesper took the object from her and dropped it immediately. She’d been holding a mirror shard slippery with blood, its jagged edge sharp as a knife.

“Why do you have this?” he asked. It took great effort to keep his tone neutral.

Kelvi shrugged. Her shoulders trembled with a silent sob. “I don’t know. I was having a bad dream, and I woke up holding it.”

“Kelvi, I need you to tell me whose blood this is.” 

“I don’t know,'' she repeated, sobbing openly once more. “I thought it was a monster, but then I woke up and t-there was a man lying on the floor. He was bleeding a lot.”

Jesper’s heart twisted. “What happened to the man?”

“He crawled away,” Kelvi whispered. “But he was screaming at me and I thought I was going to die. There was a lot of blood. J’sper, I think I hurt him”

Jesper felt relief among all the horror within him. If this poor little girl had killed someone, he would be devastated for her. A stab wound was bad enough, but it was better than death.

It was clear to Jesper that she had been drugged with _fantya_. The thought alone made Jesper want to track down Prenten and shoot him for such a hideous act. The hallucinogen was deadly in itself, but subjecting a child to it was crueler than Jesper could imagine. 

“Even if you hurt someone, Kelvi, it wasn’t your fault,” he tried to console.

“But I hurt him,” she repeated. 

Jesper leaned closer, and this time the girl didn’t shy away. He kept his palms open and his shoulders relaxed to avoid scaring her further. “I know what happened, Kelvi. I know how scary it is, because the same thing happened to me. You thought you were dreaming, right?”

“Yes,” said Kelvi. Her eyes were distant. “I didn’t think it was real. I’m scared.” 

“You don’t have to be afraid anymore. I can help you, Kelvi.”

“I don’t want to hurt you too.” The poor girl sounded so defeated. She hunched her shoulders and stared at all the blood on her clothes. 

Jesper’s heart clenched. He couldn’t stand the sight before him. Leaning back, he peeled off his jacket and handed it to Kelvi. “Wear this for me. We don’t need to see all that blood.”

The girl hesitantly accepted his coat and wrapped it around herself. Her arms disappeared into the long, baggy sleeves. Jesper quietly rolled them up for her. 

“I want to take you to someone that can help,” Jesper said. “Where are your parents?”

Kelvi shrugged slowly. Her fingers were pressed to her mouth. “They work in a factory.” She enunciated the last word carefully. “I don’t see Mama very much.” 

Jesper could work with that. “I’ll help you get back to them,” he promised. “But first I want to help you wash up and get some food.” 

Kelvi brightened, and Jesper thought she was almost smiling. “Okay,” she said. 

Jesper took her small hand and helped her stand up. Her legs wobbled beneath her dirty nightgown and the coat she borrowed from Jesper, which almost reached her knees. 

Kelvi wasn’t wearing any shoes. Jesper thought for a moment, then crouched down in front of her. “Let me carry you instead,” he requested. “I don’t want you to be cold, or to cut yourself.” 

Kelvi responded by barreling into Jesper’s chest. “Alright,” he laughed, scooping her up in his arms. He shifted her to tuck her feet under the hem of his jacket and made his way to the door. 

“Thank you, J’sper,” Kelvi said from against his shoulder. There was still too much pain in her voice.

Jesper stroked a hand through her hair. Then he shifted his belt to ensure his pistols were out of her reach. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d dealt with a child this young. It was a disconcerting feeling.

Jesper found that he had no response to a little girl’s gratitude after he saved her from something that never should have happened at all. 

~--~

Jesper decided he would take Kelvi to Nina. 

Part of him felt terrible that he planned to do so without even asking Nina first. But it was the middle of the night, and Jesper had gone too long without meeting with Anika, or hearing scout reports from Inej and Roeder. There was work to be done, and as lieutenant now, Jesper needed to work harder than ever before. 

He was distracted by Wylan, and Kaz’s absence. Jesper didn’t have enough confidence in himself to deal with this too.

At some point, Kelvi had fallen asleep in Jesper’s arms. She trembled, whether from the cold or fear Jesper didn’t know. Her pale eyelids fluttered. Jesper hoped she wouldn’t remember her dreams. 

They were a few blocks away from the Slat. Jesper shook the girl gently to wake her up. Kelvi did so groggily, rubbing at her eyes, thin arms still swallowed by Jesper’s coat sleeves.

“Where am I?” she mumbled. 

“We’re almost to a safe place,” Jesper said quietly. “I need you to listen to me. I have a friend named Nina who’s going to keep you safe.” 

“I don’t want you to leave,” Kelvi said. Her eyes shone with tears. “I’m scared.” 

“I know, Kelvi. But you’ll be safer with Nina than with me. I promise. I would trust her with my life, which means you can too.”

“Okay,” Kelvi whispered, though she still didn’t seem entirely happy about it.

The girl had fallen back asleep by the time Jesper entered the Slat. He hoped Nina would be here and not halfway across the city. 

Luck was on his side tonight. Jesper found Nina in the kitchen, meaning against a chipped counter with a coffee mug and a plate of waffles. Her long brown hair fell around her shoulders. 

“Hi, Nina,” Jesper greeted.

She turned to him, eyes widening. “Oh, that’s a child,” Nina said, startled. 

“I found her alone in a factory,” Jesper whispered. He didn’t want to wake her up. “Her name is Kelvi, and she was drugged. The Fire Fliers went after a _child_.” Another one, now that Jesper thought about Erry and the boy’s violent murder.

“Saints,” Nina said in horror. Her hand covered her mouth. “Jesper, that… she’s so young.” 

“I was hoping you could take her,” Jesper began. “Just for the time being. You’re better at things like this than I am, and I need to patrol. Just- can you help return her to her parents? I wanted to make sure she was alright first.”

“Of course.” Nina reached for the sleeping child and secured her against her shoulder. “She trusts you. I’ll make sure she knows I’m safe as well.”

Jesper dropped a hurried hand to Nina’s other arm. “Nina, I can’t thank you enough.” 

She grinned. There was a certain sadness to the smile. Nina’s eyes were fixed on the girl’s white-blonde hair where she slept on Nina’s shoulder.

Jesper left Nina and the young girl with one last glance at both of them. He thought about Kaz, as he had countless times before. About the Fire Fliers and the _fantya_ and whatever Kaz might be facing as Jesper stood in the Slat, protected but ultimately useless. 

Jesper shook his head. He didn’t know what to do about any of this.

Maybe he hadn’t in a long time.

~--~

After six more days, Jesper felt so restless he was half out of his mind. 

Memories of the _fantya_ kept him awake. Jesper tossed in his small bed in the room at the Slat, the one he normally shared with Wylan. Though he technically had much more space now, alone as he was, the bed felt too small. Wylan wasn’t curled beside him, breaths even and light from sleep, which felt wrong. 

Jesper gave up trying to sleep. After another week of no solid leads, Roeder and Inej still frantically combing the city, he felt that all hope had been lost. He almost hoped that Kaz was dead now if he hadn’t yet escaped. Anything was better than the disturbing thought of Kaz drugged or tortured by the Fire Fliers.

Jesper pressed his fists to his eyes. He was being irrational. Kaz couldn’t be dead; he was able to survive anything in the world. Perhaps he was laying low, waiting to execute some master plan before he returned to the Dregs properly.

He descended the stairs and stood at the bottom of them, taking in the main room. Keeg was there, along with a few of the other Dregs. Some were drinking or playing cards despite the odd hour. 

Anika found him standing there. She entered from the kitchen, her hair windswept. “Jesper!” she greeted. “Good, I was looking for you. There’s business.” 

Keeg lifted his head at the sight of Anika. She caught his eye, then looked away. Jesper followed her down the hall to the office as Keeg stood behind them, trying to follow. 

“Anika!” Keeg called as she was about to disappear into the office. It was clear that she didn’t want to talk to him, but Jesper wasn’t sure why.

Anika kept the door open with a heavy sigh. “What, Keeg.” 

“Stop avoiding me, I have news you wanna hear. One of the brawlers from the other week? He came in earlier with the last batch of recruits, and now some of them are planning to up and leave the Dregs.”

“Why?” Anika demanded. “They have contracts. Kaz keeps the papers irontight. No one can simply leave our ranks.” 

“They don’t care about the contracts. Another gang offered them protection and a better life- I didn’t catch a name. Kaz needs to hear about this, Anika, I don’t care where he’s gone.”

“I’ll deal with it,” Anika dismissed him.

Keeg plowed his way into the office anyway, ignoring Anika’s attempt to push him out. “Hey now, wait. Brekker’s name is on the contracts. You’re not the boss.” 

Something must have shown on Anika’s face. Keeg frowned. “You’re hiding something.” 

“Keeg, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” Anika said. 

“Walk away, Keeg,” Jesper chimed in. “You don’t need to be involved.” 

“No, something’s up and I want to know what it is. I’m not stupid, Anni. I drove Fahey and the Wraith down south to that place and got them out alive. I don’t know exactly what’s going on here, but I know enough. Roeder too- I bet he’s already clued in.”

“You have no right to be asking me this,” Anika retorted. 

“Tell me,” Keeg said. He crossed his arms and leaned against the door.

Anika threw up her hands. “You’re a raging drunk, Keeg. You can’t keep secrets. I wouldn’t trust you with five _kruge_.” 

“I’ll keep this one,” argued Keeg. “Come on, I just want to know.”

“Fine,” Anika said. “Fine. If you spread the word about this, I’ll gut you and enjoy every moment of it. Kaz was taken three weeks ago. There’s your prized secret.”

“Taken?” Keeg howled with laughter. “Cute the jokes, Anni! You expect me to believe anyone in Ketterdam had their heads on backwards enough to try and take Kaz Brekker, the demon-man himself?” Keeg chuckled, heartily running a hand over his jaw. “Now that’s a good one.”

Then he took in both their cold, stoic expressions. Keeg froze, delight instantly melting into shock. “Oh, hell no,” he said quickly. “You can’t be serious. I thought Kaz just chose to take a vacation- live up to the lazy reputation of all the other bosses. Get away from all this gloom.”

“As if Kaz would ever willingly leave his work, everything he’s created,” Jesper said scathingly. He’d always been friendly with Keeg, but their predicament shook him up, made him angry and just a little bit more ruthless.

Keeg stared at him, open-mouthed. He was surprised by the remark. “Oh, we’re all dead,” he groaned. “Kaz got taken out? So you are the boss now, Anika. Damn it all.” 

“It’s been three weeks now,” Jesper said. “The Fire Fliers have him.”

“Three weeks with those crazy bastards? If Brekker hasn’t gotten out by now, I’m sure he’s dead.” Keeg backtracked at the look on Jesper’s face. “Or he’s biding his time very carefully. What do I know? Nothing, nothing. Anika, you could wage war for this.”

“The Dregs have been on top for years,” Anika shook her head. “We need to keep it quiet, otherwise all the other gangs will turn on us once they realize we’re weaker than we appeared.” 

“So we’re cornered,” Keeg summed up. “Does that mean I’m allowed to shoot the Fire Fliers on sight? They have Brekker, for hell’s sake.”

“No, Keeg,” Anika said firmly. “I refuse to start a war without Kaz here. We’re going to keep the rest of the Barrel from knowing for as long as we can.” 

“I’ll keep it quiet,” said Keeg. “That’s a promise.”

“It had better be,” Anika groused. “Now, leave. I want to place a bet with Jesper about how long you’ll last with that secret.” 

Keeg stared at her, offended. “You are too cruel.” He opened the office door. “Put in a hundred _kruge_ for my bet. I’ll keep your secret until the Fire Fliers expose us first.” 

Anika smirked. “They would never do that. Deal.” They shook on it.

“I’ll put in ten,” Jesper laughed. “Keeg will last a day at most.”

“You fools have too little faith,” said Keeg with a shake of his head. “I’m still waiting on a raise, Anika.”

“Keeg, go to hell,” Anika said. He flipped her off and left, his heavy footsteps booming in the hallway.

“I hate him,” Anika said conversationally once they were alone. 

“You don’t,” Jesper disagreed. “He would be long dead if that were true.” 

Anika threw a pen at him. Jesper dodged it and let it clatter on the floor in front of the bookshelves. “Get out, Fahey. I’ll sort out this mess with the recruits and update you later, it can wait. Go find Roeder or Inej. Make yourself useful. ” 

Jesper laughed and waved goodbye, a much kinder gesture than Keeg’s. 

He didn’t get far. Jesper had barely left the hallway when Wylan stepped before him.

His presence caught Jesper off guard. He hadn’t expected to see Wylan after so many days of silence. They hadn’t even been in the same room together since the brief meeting at the Crow Club.

“What?” Jesper asked. He intended to sound angry, but the words came out more defeated than anything. Jesper was too exhausted to summon the feeling of anything but a heavy dullness. 

“We should talk,” Wylan said quietly. He fiddled with his hands and wouldn’t meet Jesper’s eyes.

“Walk with me,” Jesper requested lightly, a silent agreement. Wylan nodded and fell into step beside him. They ventured onto the streets together without a word.

Jesper found himself at a loss for words. It was an odd feeling, one he had never truly experienced in Wylan’s company. All he knew was that anger no longer had a place within him. Jesper was simply tired, weighed down by a bone-deep exhaustion. 

Wylan kept a careful distance between them, his shoulders tense. Jesper jammed his hands into his pockets, keeping his steps measured against the cobblestones. He had the irrational desire to run, but that would solve nothing between them.

Jesper took a gamble, then. He removed his right hand from his pocket and placed it on Wylan’s elbow, guiding him to the edge of the canal. He kept the touch lighter than he would have in the past, a part of him still unsure of what Wylan would accept. At first Wylan stiffened from the touch, but then he relaxed and followed. Jesper breathed more easily. 

Jesper waved to the nearest canal boat, which slowed to a halt before them. He directed the oarsman from the small boat. The man dropped his oar and stepped onto the street with a dirty look at Jesper, disgruntled at being denied the chance for service. 

Now he and Wylan were alone. Jesper dropped into the low boat first and crammed his back against the front ledge, curling his legs so that Wylan had space to climb in as well. They sat across from each other, feet almost touching. The laces on Wylan’s left shoe had come untied.

Jesper scooped up the oar, which had been laid parallel to the edge of the boat, and pushed it through the murky canal water. A slow current carried the boat further, but Jesper used the oar to let the boat gain momentum, pushing them into the center of the waterway.

A sharp, uneasy silence thickened the air between them. Jesper took the time to study Wylan’s face, which he had seen much too rarely over the past days. Wylan was pale as normal, but his brilliant eyes were dulled by dark circles underneath from lack of sleep. Jesper supposed their tiredness matched. He’d spent the past week haunted by his visions from the _fantya_ and Wylan’s obvious, constant absence at his side. 

Drinking himself into a stupor had been easier than confronting it all, the fear that clung to him and the insomnia that let the night hours fly by. 

Jesper wanted to think about none of it. He’d avoided everything rather spectacularly, if he wanted to commend himself for it. 

“I shouldn’t have said what I said,” Wylan spoke up, finally. He kept his gaze in his lap. 

Jesper wondered if it had been a poor choice to cage them in like this, confined to a small boat, just him and Wylan and the weight of an argument more terrible than anything they’d dealt with in the past. But part of him knew that, if he wasn’t forced to have this conversation, he might try to run from it forever. 

“I was afraid,” Wylan continued. His eyes flitted up to meet Jesper’s, and Wylan held his gaze with resolve. “I’m terrified for you, Jesper, always. And- and that fear made me furious, but you didn’t deserve to hear that, and it wasn’t fair or true at all.”

“Maybe it was true,” Jesper muttered dully. 

“No,” Wylan said immediately. “I was hurt, and I wanted you to feel the same way, so that was the way to do it. That sounds horrible, I know. I wasn’t thinking. Jesper, I’m sorry.”

“I don’t think I want you to apologize.” Jesper reached over the edge of the boat and ran his fingers through the canal water, frigid against his fingertips. Lights from the buildings around them reflected off the lapsing currents. Some of it caught in Wylan’s hair, a brilliant red-gold against the night’s darkness. 

“Why not?” Wylan asked, hesitant. 

“Because you were right, Wylan. You should be glad to hear it. I’ve been impulsive, too eager to seek danger, and for what? Maybe I am pathetic, maybe I am a fool, and it took you this long to make me realize it. Especially when it comes to Kaz.”

Kaz, damn him. Jesper needed to see his friend returned home, if only to ask once and for all if Jesper would ever earn his forgiveness, his trust. If he would forever be chasing a dream which would never come to fruition.

Wylan shook his head more rigorously as Jesper spoke. His hands darted forward, gripping Jesper’s tightly, pulling his left one from the water. Jesper’s skin must have been cold against Wylan’s own fingers, but he ignored it. “Jesper, no, listen to me. I regret every word I said to you outside the safehouse. None of it was true. I need you to believe that, if not for yourself, then for me.” 

Wylan took a deep breath. “You’re kind and loyal and brave. That’s what I love most about you, Jes. Twisting that into something terrible was too far- it’s something I never should have done.” 

Jesper felt as if his chest was caving in. _I’m too lucky_ , he thought. “How are you so good?” he said.

Wylan smiled wryly and shook his head again. “I’m really not,” he mumbled. “Not after what I said. Kaz is complicated, you know that. I know it hurt you to hear that Kaz would never forgive you. Sometimes I feel like he already has.” 

“I don’t know about that. When I was dreaming, from the _fantya_...” Jesper blew out a weary sigh, “Kaz was the one that sold me out. It was his revenge for when Inej was stabbed at the docks.” 

Wylan frowned. “He wouldn’t do that to you.”

Jesper’s laugh was shaky. “I hope not.” His leg bounced with restlessness against the side of the boat. Wylan absentmindedly dropped a hand to his knee, stilling the nervous movement. Jesper hated to recall the hallucinations. Even the barest thought of what he’d seen filled him with a terrible dread. He wanted to forget. 

_Wylan is here_ , Jesper tried to tell himself. _He’s not going anywhere_.

“I’m loyal to Kaz, even if you think I shouldn’t be,” said Jesper. “That will never change.”

Wylan pursed his lips. “I know,” he obliged, the words stilted yet understanding. His tone had lost the last of its harshness. “I don’t think I’ll ever agree with that, but I get it. You and Kaz have history.”

Jesper wondered if there was any bitterness there. He didn’t ask. “We do,” Jesper agreed.

“All I ask is that you’ll at least try to be careful,” Wylan said. 

“I will try,” Jesper told Wylan. A part of him was grateful that the promise wasn’t anything more. “And I’m sorry too. You’re not a coward and you’ve never been pathetic at all. Even during your earliest days in Ketterdam, you were always brave.” 

“Before I came here, the most dangerous object I’d ever held was a pen,” Wylan laughed. “I’d hardly call that brave.” 

“Don’t do that,” Jesper said. “You escaped from your father and helped lock him in prison for good. That’s braver than anything I would try.” 

“In all fairness, nothing Colm has ever done could warrant such a thing.” 

Jesper laughed. “That’s true.” He’d missed this, Wylan’s company, their casual conversations and jokes.

Wylan closed his eyes and leaned back against the ledge behind him. The canal boat had carried them north up the East Stave, closer to the harbors. Wylan seemed settled, peaceful, but Jesper knew something important had gone unsaid.

“There was something else,” Jesper confessed in a whisper. He loathed the way his voice wavered.

Wylan sat up straight and scanned Jesper’s face. “What?” he asked simply. 

Jesper swallowed hard. “You were there, Wylan. In my dream from the _fantya_. When they tried to take me, you fought them, and they killed you for it.”

Wylan went very still. “Jesper,” he said. Just his name, nothing more, and Wylan seemed devastated.

“A bullet to the skull,” Jesper continued. Something wretched swept through him that seemed to splinter his bones apart; he curled his shoulders inward at the feeling. “That’s how you died- in an instant, too late for me to deflect the blow. There was so much blood in your hair, and the bone-”

“Jesper, please-” 

“And I wasn’t going to kill them,” Jesper yelled over Wylan. “Only escape, until what they did to you. I have never wanted to kill anyone more in my life, Wylan, and those men weren’t even real! I wanted them to pay. Shoot out their kneecaps, smash each rib cage and then their skulls with my bullets, using the same damn power they were trying to capture me for!” 

“Stop, Jesper,” Wylan pleaded. His eyes were riddled with pain. Jesper had shattered the peace they found. 

“Why, Wylan? You still don’t want to hear about it? I had to see you die.” Jesper’s laugh was bitter and twisted. “All I want is for you to understand. You claimed that you care more for me than I do for you. The worst thing my mind could conjure was the thought of losing you.” 

Wylan looked stricken. “I didn’t realize… how terrible it would be, the hallucinations from the _fantya_. I should have known based on how you reacted that it wasn’t just about the _stadwatch_ and Kaz. I was too caught up in all of it.” His gaze was steady, and perhaps ashamed, as he looked Jesper straight in the eye. “I hate that I wasn’t there for you.” 

“You’re here now,” Jesper whispered. “We both are. That’s enough.”

Wylan pulled Jesper forward and crushed him to his chest. Jesper went willingly, burying his face against Wylan’s shoulder. “Will we be alright?” Wylan asked, quiet and scared. 

Jesper held onto him. He didn’t plan to let go anytime soon. “Yes, Wylan. We always are.”

~--~

They kept close together on their walk back to the Slat. 

When they stepped out of the canal boat after drifting for hours on the water, Jesper kept his hand clasped with Wylan’s. After that they walked closely, arms pressed together, practically alone on the narrow street. 

Few others were out at this hour, closer to sunrise than not. Soon the workers would come to life for a morning shift, but for now, it seemed as if Jesper and Wylan had the world to themselves. Jesper felt at peace for the first time in days, comforted by Wylan’s presence beside him. 

They missed too much of each other over the past ten days. 

It had begun to snow. Fat flakes of white fell from the sky, settling on rooftops and the cobblestones beneath their feet. Jesper glanced over to see that snowflakes had settled in Wylan’s hair and on his shoulders. Jesper made no effort to brush the snow away. It formed a stunning image, Wylan at his side, a boy of fire and of ice with his red hair and the white of winter snow against blue eyes.

Wylan caught his eye. Jesper grinned, and Wylan smiled back. 

On the street across from the Slat, Jesper could see a cloaked figure stop at the door. They seemed to paste something on the front window, then continued walking. There was a stack of papers in their hand, half concealed by the folds of their coat.

Jesper almost called out to their retreating back, but kept quiet. Confusion and concern battled within him as he and Wylan crossed the street swiftly. When they reached the door, Jesper dropped Wylan’s hand and reached for the object the stranger had left. A flyer, one page, stamped carefully with black and red ink. There were others like it adhered to the doors and front windows of the other buildings around them. 

Wylan peered around him to look as well. Jesper read the flyer once, then twice. A cold feeling filled him that had nothing to do with the snow.

As Jesper read through the contents of the page once more, a sharp dread consumed him in a way he’d never felt before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (just to clarify- 100% of that first part was a hallucination, unlike kaz's experience. lmao just wanted to make sure that was settled- Kaz wouldn't do that (to Jesper) and Wylan is obviously not dead but still yeah)  
> ok but jesper with children >>>> i love him. the scene with the little girl might have seemed random but this fic will have a sequel and I have Thoughts- I'm laying groundwork  
> this chapter was supposed to be posted like a week ago but damn, it took forever for a hundred reasons i'm not even gonna go into. it was so rough, but here we are ! it's f i n e  
> next chapter is extremely short so i expect that to be done in 4 days max, if only to make up for this one (plus i've already started it), so see y'all then :D


	20. 20 ~ Nina

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chaos sweeps over the Dregs as the Fire Fliers announce their next- and boldest- move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me at the end of last chapter: next update will be in four days! :))  
> also me: goes on hiatus for a month instead  
> for a lot of reasons really, but mainly i was just burnt out as hell/writing poorly just to have stuff to post. (i reread the last few chapters of this and uhhhh yeah anyway, yikes)  
> (i thought i could avoid going on hiatus but Nope)  
> (also this is unedited because I'm literally ridiculous. like it's taken me weeks to write and i just don't like it at all but it's necessary. as always- i'll save it for the rewrites, but here it is ! not the quality i was hoping for but it's what i've got)  
> enjoy, possibly :)

The Slat was too quiet. 

Over the past several days and long, exhausting nights, Nina had spent much of her time with Anika. They both took on most of the work involved with decrypting and sorting files from the Stronghold; a mess of papers, journal entries and notes on the effects of _fantya veir_.

Nina couldn’t help but feel slightly overwhelmed by all the written accounts of victims subjected to _fantya_. The reports seemed to coincide perfectly with the reactions they’d seen from Jesper, as expected: disorientation, panic and great violence, all born from fear.

She and Anika were sprawled across the floor at the Slat’s office, files scattered around them on the dusty floorboards. Nina discarded a scrap of paper and swiped a hand across her face. Fatigue clung to her; they had been working for hours, and her eyes felt too small in her head, vision slightly blurred on the edges.

Anika wasn’t faring much better. Her skin was pale against the circles under her eyes. Her blonde hair, shiny in the faint sunlight, was limp and frayed from running her hands through it. 

“Anything of note?” Nina asked.

“Same as all the rest,” Anika replied. She stretched her legs out and rolled her shoulders. “Most of the prisoners died- suicide, starvation, murder from the others. The reactions are all gruesome and near-identical towards the end. The scientists must have perfected the drug.”

Nina shivered. “It explains the murder scene at the University. And all the rest, I suppose.” She remembered that day too vividly. The anguished feeling of the dead was palpable, and it was as if Nina had become their pain, their terror. 

A lethal, dangerous hallucinogen spread across the city, for what gain? Money? Terror? The Fire Fliers were known to so few outside the Barrel. Nina felt that everything was crumpling, their path forward too dark and untold. 

She wished for peace in Ketterdam if nothing else, no matter how foolish such a desire was.

Anika seemed to notice that her thoughts had drifted. “What have you found?” she asked with a nudge to Nina’s leg.

Nina flung a hand toward her designated stack of files; much shorter than Anika’s own. “Inej obtained financial records from the Stronghold office too. The compound turned a steep profit from the Fire Fliers. If Prenten sells _fantya_ for the same price or more, the Fliers can bathe in _kruge_ morning and night if they wish to.”

Anika snorted. “The thing I don’t understand is how Prenten obtained the funds for this in the first place. If the Fliers had been trading in Ketterdam for even a week, Kaz would know. It’s impossible.”

“An off-shore business?” Nina suggested. “A job that made them richer than all the rest of us?”

“If they traded elsewhere, illegally or not, I can’t imagine how we’d track that. It would take months.” 

“Shame,” Nina said. She let her eyes drift shut as they lapsed into silence, nearly falling asleep. Nina had been awake for most of the night, Anika even longer. 

Yet still they had next to nothing. They merely understood the workings of _fantya_ , which alluded to nothing of the Fire Fliers and their distribution of the drug.

And still no sign of Kaz, despite Inej working herself into the ground. 

Nina felt a spark of worry at the mere thought of her friend. Inej had been unbalanced recently in a way Nina had never witnessed before. She knew the reason for it, they all did, but that didn’t make the sight of Inej any less painful.

Inej was more quiet than ever, retreating into herself, yet hovered on the edge of anger at the same time. She slipped away and searched Ketterdam for even a glimpse of Kaz, for anything that would bring him back to her. 

Dedication to the job, Inej might say to try and justify it. Loyalty to the gang she’d found a home with.

But Nina knew Inej wouldn’t push herself over the edge for just anyone. 

Nina sighed. She would find Inej later and ensure she was alright, if only physically. There was little to do about the worry that plagued them all.

An explosion of sound and color jerked Nina from her thoughts. She and Anika both started as the officer door was flung open abruptly, its hinges squealing from the force. Jesper stormed into the room with Wylan at his heels, twin expressions of ill-concealed panic on their faces. 

“We have a problem,” Jesper announced.

_At least they’ve reconciled_ , Nina couldn’t help but think despite the dire nature of whatever news Jesper brought. It was a mere ten days ago when they all sat in the Dregs safehouse together and first began decoding Stronghold files; ten days since Jesper drugged himself with _fantya_ to understand its effects. As far as Nina knew, Wylan and Jesper hadn’t spoken since. 

Until now. Nina searched for any evidence of lingering animosity between them, but found nothing. If Wylan was still angry, he wouldn’t be standing so close. 

Nina was glad they’d resolved their argument. Jesper and Wylan had argued before, but true anger had never remained between them so viciously or for so long. Despite the chaos of everything threatening to upright Ketterdam, it gave Nina hope that things truly could be alright.

Yet things could also go so terribly wrong. 

Jesper stepped into the room and bent down to hand Nina a folded piece of paper. She stood and unfolded it, placing the sheet on the desk so that Anika could read alongside her in better light. 

Anika’s eyes scanned the page rapidly. “What?” she demanded. “Where did you find this?”

Nina read for herself. The paper had a thin, cheap quality. On it were damning words printed in bold black ink, fading in some spots on the title, spelled out in an ornate font.

_’The end of the Dregs’_ , the flyer advertised. And beneath it, _’A new reign, presented by Mister Erijer Prenten, leader of the Fire Fliers.’_ At the very bottom was a date and a location; the following evening, on the ten bell chime, at Knevrin Theater. Nina faintly recognized the name; it was a building once used for old shows, torn down in recent years, vacant for the time being. 

“They’re pasted everywhere,” Jesper answered. “Right outside the Slat, and the Crow Club, and every building in between.”

Nina blinked hard, trying to collect her scattered thoughts. “The Fire Fliers can’t tear us down in an instant. Tomorrow night, they say. ‘The end.’ What does that even mean?”

“I wish I knew,” said Jesper.

“They have Kaz,” Anika muttered. “Maybe Prenten thinks it’s possible, and the Fire Fliers will make their move. Dammit! Jesper, how did the other gangs take this?”

“I don’t know,” Jesper replied. “Wylan and I were out. Then I read the flyer and came straight here.” Wylan nodded in agreement.

Nina studied the paper again. At the very top of the page was a printed crow, a mockery of the Dregs’ symbol and tattoo. Its black head was disproportionate to the body and wings, which were partially obscured by two red slashes, bright as blood.

“Saints,” Nina muttered. No one else said a word. Anika stared at the flyer; it seemed her mind was racing.

“You’ve seen them too.”

Jesper jumped lightly at the voice and turned around, startled. Nina followed his gaze to see Inej leaning through the window, knees bent where she was crouched on the outside ledge. The window had been pried open, unnoticed by all of them. 

Inej stepped into the room with swift grace, sealing the window behind her. Dark strands of windswept hair streaked against her brow. Nina suspected she had run all the way here.

In her grip was a crumpled flyer. Nina could see that Inej’s hands were shaking, a fine tremor, barely noticeable. Inej placed the flyer on top of the one Jesper had brought in.

“Of course we saw,” Jesper replied after a moment. “The Fire Fliers plastered these bulletins all over the city.”

“On our front door, no less,” Wylan added.

“I don’t suppose there’s any way to keep the rest of the Barrel from learning of this,” Anika said.

“There were too many of these on our street alone,” said Jesper with a nod to the leaflet on the desk. “The rest of the gangs know by now, I’m sure of it. I’d even bet money that they’re all celebrating.”

“Kaz’s list of enemies has only grown in recent years,” Inej murmured. Her words were heavy with something akin to dread. “Too many people hold a grudge against him. They’ll enjoy seeing the Fire Fliers try to bring us to the ground.” 

“Since the Dime Lions crumpled, we’ve been on top,” Anika agreed. “For nearly two years, now. That’s much too long for the Barrel’s standards. All the other bosses have been frothing at the mouth to take out the Dregs.” 

“And now Prenten orchestrates this.” Nina stared down at the flyer as she said it, the bold words of black stamped onto wrinkled paper. The red ink on the bloody crow was smudged. 

“He played his cards well,” Jesper agreed.

“I don’t like this at all,” Wylan murmured. He traced a finger over the inked crow. “What will we do?”

“We need to be careful,” Anika said. “I’m not prepared to risk Kaz’s livelihood if we retaliate.” 

Inej stared at Anika. “You want to do nothing? Kaz could be dead!” she shouted. Wylan’s mouth dropped open at the outburst. Jesper looked shocked as well; Nina knew his expression was reflected on her own face. 

Anika sized up Inej for a moment, evidently trying to weigh the right words. 

“Inej, we don’t know that for sure,” Nina interrupted before Anika could speak, somewhat helplessly. 

“The Fire Fliers boasted about ‘the end,’” Inej countered, fire in her voice, jabbing at the flyer on the desk. “They’re going to kill him, if they haven’t already, and they’ll make a spectacle of it for all the other gangs to enjoy.”

Nina stepped forward, gripping her friend’s shoulders tightly. “Inej, listen to me,” she said. “You can’t give up hope. None of us can. Think about it! In the past, has Kaz ever given you a reason to believe he can’t make it out of any mess he’s gotten himself into?”

“No,” Jesper cut in miserably, his face pinched with worry. “But if the Fire Fliers think they can pull off a stunt like this, the odds of Kaz making it out alive are worse than they’ve ever been.”

“And trying to fight the Fliers on this could worsen his odds even further..”

“Or, doing nothing at all could seal Kaz’s fate,” Inej argued. Her voice had gone too quiet. “If we don’t come for him, who will?”

“I agree with Inej,” said Nina, for which she received a grateful nod. It was true; Nina couldn’t help but share the sentiment. Kaz was the most hated man in the Barrel, an accolade he wore like a crown. The other gangs wished to destroy him, the _stadwatch_ hunted him with no relent, and more merchers than not had tried to put him in prison for good. 

Anika sighed heavily. “I know. I suppose I agree as well. But, Inej, I’m not willing to go as far as you might want to. We’ll show up at the Knevrin Theater, and stay civil until that becomes impossible.”

“I understand,” said Inej, even though she seemed displeased.

“Our time is short,” Nina chimed in. There was no time for trivialities. The more intimate details of their plan, whatever it was, could come later. “We need to make a move, and quickly. Before the other bosses get too comfortable with the idea of all this.”

Wylan looked to Inej. “What would Kaz do?”

“He wouldn’t have backed himself into a corner, for one thing,” Jesper interjected.

“If Kaz were here and anyone else was gone, he’d say to leave them behind,” said Anika. “None of us have to like it- I certainly don’t- but that’s how he does business.” 

“You’re wrong,” Inej disagreed immediately with a shake of her head. For a moment her gaze had gone distant, vacant, as if she were lost in a memory. “Yes, Kaz might say that. But he would still plan for rescue a thousand times over if it were valuable enough to him.” 

“Frankly, I don’t give a damn what Kaz would do,” said Jesper. “He’s not here. That’s the point. I’ll do anything to bring him back home.” 

Anika leaned her chin on a hand, pensive as she looked at the flyer, then out the window, gaze flickering around the room. “Roeder will work out how the other bosses are taking the news,” she decided. “I’m concerned about the Liddies especially, though any of the gangs might have plans of their own.”

“I’m asking the rest of you to stay here with me,” Anika continued. She shifted from her position against the desk, posture suddenly stiff and uncomfortable.

“Gladly,” said Jesper.

Anika nodded, grateful even as her expression twisted with unease. “Good. Because it’s time to address the rest of the Dregs.” 

~--~

Nina had never seen Anika so nervous.

She stood near the front of the Slat’s main room. Members of the Dregs were piled into every corner, leaning on the banisters, perching on the steps or spilling in through the kitchen doorway. There were dozens here, and the rest could spread the word to the others. 

It was an audience even Nina would hate to face.

The Dregs were unruly as ever, a sea of anxiety and frantic conversation. Nina couldn’t begin to imagine their confusion. She and Inej, Wylan and Jesper and Anika, had had time to let it sink in that their leader had been taken. But the Dregs before them, some so frighteningly young, were scared. Unsure of everything they’d known.

Every member recruited to the Dregs expected protection, the closest thing to safety the Barrel could offer, as long as Kaz Brekker walked the streets. But now that had all fallen apart. 

A realization some might have not yet come to.

In the far corner, Anika stood near Keeg, their heads pressed together. Nina drifted closer to listen to their conversation. Before she reached them, _kruge_ had been quickly exchanged, and Keeg was boasting about something. A won bet, Nina could hear.

“Don’t ask,” Anika said when she saw Nina’s questioning look. “We made a bet, I lost, and now he’s gloating.” 

Nina wasn’t fooled; Anika was merely trying to stall. “You seem nervous. Why?”

Anika grimaced. “I’ve never much liked talking in front of a crowd.”

“The Dregs need answers,” Nina tried to console. “And, as boss, you’re the one to give them.” 

“I know,” Anika muttered. She pushed her hair back and straightened her spine. Nina stayed against the wall as Anika stepped to the front of the room. Jesper and Wylan sat close to her, Keeg and Roeder also hovering nearby. The rest of the gang members had banded together mostly by age, though some simply sat wherever there was space.

“Listen up!” Anika called out. The chatter that filled the room died down. Silence swept over them all, save for the occasional rustle of clothing, or of a paper crumpling in hand. 

Many of the Dregs had seen the flyers already, and wanted answers. 

“I know you’re all confused,” Anika began, “and frightened. Some of you might have heard only whispers of the Fire Fliers, and now you’re confronted with this.” 

A murmur swept through the Dregs. Anika waited a moment from them to return to silence. Someone seated by the fireplace urged her on.

“There’s no easy way to say this, but you all need to stand down and keep quiet. Three weeks ago, Kaz Brekker was taken by the Fire Fliers, a new gang that has recently spread throughout Ketterdam. Our boss has been missing since.” 

Anika had asked for silence; a foolish request, perhaps, in wake of the uproar that instantly sparked. 

Dozens of questions were asked at once, riding a wave of full-fledged panic. Some were incredulous, others furious, many outright refusing to believe such a thing. Anika tried to shout over them, to no avail. 

In the chaos, Nina looked for Inej. She wondered if her friend was standing in the shadows somewhere, or perched against a railing on the floor above. Or maybe Inej had forgone this meeting entirely, choosing to venture out instead to scout the theater or see what she might learn.

Anika whistled hard, the sound sharp and piercing, to return everyone’s attention to her. “Stop!” she ordered. “We have yet to find him. I intended to keep his absence secret to keep peace in the Barrel. Prenten, leader of the Fire Fliers, has taken that option away.”

“Peace?” asked Pim. He sat on one of the low chairs near the fire. “If Kaz was abducted, that’s grounds for a full-blown war.”

“I won’t wage war,” Anika disagreed. 

“You should,” Pim said lightly. He was met with some- too much- agreement.

“Kaz appointed me lieutenant, not you, which means you should keep your mouth shut,” Anika snapped. “There will be no war against the Fire Fliers. Not yet. Now, I’m sure you’ve all seen the notices posted in the streets- a show tomorrow night, where the Fliers expect to bring us down. That won’t happen.” 

No one dared question her. Not this time. 

“I encourage you to attend Prenten’s meeting in the greatest numbers possible,” said Anika. “The Barrel seems to have forgotten everything this gang fought to become. The politics are irrelevant. All I ask of you is to wait for retaliation until my word. No violence at the theater tomorrow, no brawls. Nothing, unless you receive orders otherwise.” 

As expected, some of the more aggressive members protested at that. There was nothing to be done; by Barrel standards, Anika was asking for a great deal of restraint. Nina knew that at least half the people in the room would be eager for the opportunity to shed blood.

Anika’s eyes flashed as she surveyed the crowd. “Every single one of you joined the Dregs for a reason. Don’t betray your ranks, your family, now. When the right time comes, when the Fire Fliers try to take us out, I’ll be damned if we don’t go down without a fight.” 

She’d chosen the right words. A new clamor erupted amongst the Dregs, now more lighthearted and much less afraid. The terror seemed to have been mostly forgotten since the start of the meeting. Some looked disgruntled, others concerned, but many had grown more excitable; eager for the chance to fight, to rise above defeat.

“Jesper is my chosen lieutenant,” Anika called out. “He’ll answer your questions.” To which Jesper opened his mouth in protest, then quickly closed it and plastered a grin on his face. 

He caught her eye. _Good luck_ , Nina mouthed to him. Jesper gave her a half-hearted salute.

Anika stepped to the side with a heavy sigh. Wylan and Nina approached her at the same time as Keeg, who clapped a hand on her shoulder. “Well done, well done!” he praised. 

“It was a good speech,” Wylan agreed. 

“Too short, I think,” Anika said.

“You gave them the right words,” Nina told her with a grin. “That’s what counts. Jesper can handle the rest.” 

Anika nodded distractedly. “Find Inej for me, will you? We need to plan our path forward, and quickly. She’ll want to be there.”

“Of course.” Nina weaved her way through the crowd, dodging people and searching for Inej in the shadows at the same time. Inej wasn’t in the office, nor the kitchen or the main room, that much was certain. 

Nina looked for her in the stairwells, even venturing up to the attic, but Inej was nowhere to be found. Nina felt a stab of worry, albeit irrational. Inej was more than capable of taking care of herself. But their lives had been too uncertain, and it was dreadfully easy for Nina to picture Inej, taken by the Fire Fliers just as Kaz had been. 

It took Nina much too long to finally track Inej down. Nina had just begun to wonder if Inej left the Slat entirely, until she found her sitting on the back steps that led from the kitchen, shoulders lax and eyes closed.

Inej perched there with her face angled toward the sun. Her anger from before had vanished, and now she was calm again, poised as ever; externally, at least.

“I’m fine,” Inej said quietly, opening her eyes.

“You could have let me ask first,” Nina laughed. She lowered herself beside Inej. Stone from the step above dug into her back.

Inej tried for a smile, the small grin painful yet present. “I knew what you were going to say.” 

“Really, though. How are you?”

Inej hesitated for a moment. “Terrified,” she whispered. Her voice wavered.

Nina leaned her head against Inej’s shoulder. “Tell me what you’re thinking,” she requested.

“This could be an opportunity,” she said, tilting her head toward Nina’s.

“How so?”

“The Fire Fliers have kept themselves hidden, spreading chaos across the city without clear motive nor location. But now they’re choosing to put on a show- a public spectacle, a proper introduction to the rest of the Barrel. What for? They’ll make their next move, and soon.” 

“That doesn’t particularly benefit us.” 

Inej brushed her hair back. “But it could. The Fire Fliers have to be centralized somewhere. And after their next move-”

“They’ll return home,” Nina finished, understanding. “Which should lead us straight back to Kaz, wherever he is.” 

“I can track them,” Inej said. “Across the entire city if I have to.”

“That won’t be easy,” Nina warned. “Whatever plans we make, the Fliers will have their own. Inej, they’ve outsmarted us in the past. I’m afraid for you.” Kaz’s absence was terrible enough; Nina couldn’t bear it if Inej was somehow taken as well, for good this time.

They had all survived too much together to be further destroyed like this.

Inej dropped her hand on top of Nina’s. “I won’t let them take me. I’d sooner die.” There was a certain fierceness that came over her at the words.

“You know, that’s not much better.” It wasn’t something Nina wanted to think about.

“I won’t fail Kaz,” Inej said distantly. “Not this time, not ever again.” 

Nina grinned. “Then let’s get to work.” 

Inej stood, and Nina allowed herself to be pulled up. They returned to the Slat’s office side by side. Part of Nina was afraid to step too far away, as if Inej would somehow vanish, even from the safety of the Dregs’ home. 

Anika was already in the office with Wylan and Jesper, who must have somehow pulled away from all the Dregs and their countless inquiries. She stood in front of the corner cabinet, a mahogany case that stretched toward the ceiling, its door made of thick glass. Rolls of maps were stored there, and Anika pulled one out, locking the cabinet door once the document was removed.

Anika dropped a map of Knevrin Theater on the desk, the image constructed of clean, careful lines in brown pencil. “We have barely a day to plan for this,” she said. “And to pull it off, we’re going to need failsafe after failsafe. I want to account for every single damn thing that might go wrong- enough detail to make even Kaz proud.”

Nina almost laughed. If they could achieve this, if Kaz was returned, perhaps the chance to witness such a miracle would come. 

Inej stepped forward. “I’m going to make them pay,” she promised, quiet yet blazing with fury, with purpose. “Prenten will learn what happens when he takes one of our own, and all the Fire Fliers will come to regret it.” 

Inej took a pen from the desk’s top drawer. She pressed it to the map of the theater, ink spilling out onto the page. “This is what we’re going to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter should maybe be out friday, then it's back to weekly updates- for real, this time  
> ALSO anyone else watch the shadow & bone show trailer??? i've been hysterical over it for the past five days- it actually looks really good!!! my hopes are high even if they shouldn't be, but i think it has the potential to be incredible  
> those five seconds of crow content gave me a truly insane amount of serotonin


End file.
